Redeemed One Trilogy: A Tale of Four Elleths
by Elluviel
Summary: A captive escaped from Mordor, struggling after a millennia to overcome her twisted ways. An exile, mourning the death of her brother. A broken-hearted, whose only love left her for another. And one under disguise among cities of Men, seeking to find the family she lost, with the Ring she gained. Four elleths unknown to each another, but all connected by one ellon, and one Ring...
1. Chapter 1: A Glimpse into the Past

**Mae govannen!**

 **I present to you the third and final installment of _The Redeemed One_ series. Though not necessary, it's advisable to read the first two stories ( _The Elven Huntress_ and _The Stirring_ ) to make complete sense of the whole ...thing. This one will be rather long, and might take a while since I'm a very busy person with higher priorities (unfortunately) but please stick with me! **

**I'd love to hear each and every one of your thoughts (concerning this story, of course, otherwise it would be...awkward) so please don't hesitate!**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Have a blessed day. :)**

 **Elluviel**

* * *

" _Ilweranael, please stop this!" Naneth cried. "It is for the best that we leave! Lorien is safer for us!"_

" _NO! I don't care! You're taking me away from home!"_

" _Lorien is your home. You were born there!" Naneth exclaimed._

" _You're taking the only friend I have away from me!"_

" _You do not understand the danger," Ada calmly said. "And you will find new friends in Lorien."_

" _No one can replace him!"_

" _Your brothers will."_

" _They're older than me! And I don't know them!"_

" _You will, with time," Ada pointed out._

" _I will never forget Legolas! I hate you!"_

" _Please, don't say that, Ilweranael!" Naneth pleaded._

Gilrael opened her eyes with a start. Those were the last words she had said to her parents before they were so ruthlessly murdered. _I hate you!_

She breathed heavily. A dream, that's what it was. A look into the past. A scene she had forgotten entirely, until that night.

Ilweranael…was that her real name? Yes, it was, she realized. The name that had been wiped from her memory during her time as a captive.

…

" _Please forgive me, Tauriel!" the bleeding, wounded ellon pleaded as he lay, dying, on the icy ground._

" _Of course I do."_

" _You don't understand! I've spent my whole life as Azog, a cruel orc. Do you have any idea what I've done?"_

" _Valluen-"_

" _I've corrupted innocent souls! I've murdered countless beings! I've ripped families apart!"_

" _The only part that matters is that you repent now."_

" _I do. Oh, of course I do! Please, Tauriel, t-tell Gilrael, tell her to forgive me. Tell her she was right, that she didn't deserve what I made her endure."_

" _I will."_

" _I love you, Tauriel. Never think otherwise. I risked my life, risk being captured, to save you. So did Ada."_

" _Valluen?" Tauriel anxiously cried as he coughed out blood._

" _F-find Naneth. S-she's …"_

" _She's what?"_

" _She's still in Middle Earth."_

Tauriel stared at the fire, absently stirring it with a stick. The rain poured outside the cave, and the wind howled. It was times like those that she missed her cousin's company, Legolas, and felt lonelier than ever, especially when she replayed that scene in her mind.

Valluen had died after she met him for the second time. He had been killed as Azog, but she knew, deep inside, that he had died as her brother. Her loving, courageous, noble brother.

It was due to him that she had been exiled, but she didn't fault the king for it. Someone had to be punished for the doings of her brother. And, though she never would have thought it, she was glad to. Glad to live out the punishment for him, to bring honour to her family.

No, she wasn't just wandering the wilderness as an exile. She was searching for her mother, the last bit of hope Valluen had given her. _She's still in Middle Earth._ Well, then Tauriel would find her.

…

" _Legolas, what do you mean?"_

" _I…cannot stay with you, Nuileth. You are not the right one for me."_

" _Why are you telling me this? Just the other night you declared your love to me, and I to you. You cannot reject me now!"_

" _I am sorry. I have spent many hours pondering the matter, and I have decided. You are not the one."_

" _Then who is?"_

" _Ilweranael."_

" _Legolas! She is dead!"_

" _Do not say that!" he snapped._

" _Y-you are breaking my heart," Nuileth whispered._

 _He pursed his lips. "I am deeply troubled about this, but I know it is the right choice. Please forgive me."_

" _Legolas!"_

" _I am sorry."_

Nuileth sat up straight in bed, gasping for breath. Beyond, the dim lights from the other flets flickered, casting a silver glow onto the Mallorn trees. A glow that had comforted her many times, but not that time.

She tossed the silk blanket off and parted through the soft canopy, soundlessly stepping onto her balcony. Stairs spiralled down her tree, the ones that Legolas once ascended regularly to visit her. Until he left Lorien.

Nuileth gazed up above the golden leaves cast into silver at night. Up above, the stars shone and twinkled, stars that she and Legolas adored. But through her tears, they were simply bright orbs.

It had been many centuries since he left, but Nuileth had never recovered, never forgotten. She still held onto the hope that he remembered her. Yet he had not visited her, not even once.

Nuileth's only comfort was in Haldir. He was quiet and sometimes intimidating, but he listened. He visited. And he had managed to convince the Lord and Lady to accept her as a scout, to patrol the borders. To do something worthwhile with her life, with her skills as the best archer in Lorien.

 _I am sorry._ How was that supposed to heal a broken heart?

…

" _Run, Ithiriel, run!" Naneth ordered, tears streaming down her dirt-stained face._

" _What about you? What about Ada, and Legolas?"_

" _Never mind about me! Ada and Legolas are well protected. But the orcs will not get to you!"_

" _Naneth, I cannot leave you!"_

" _GO! Do you have the Ring?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Then fly, fly with the wind. Run as fast and as far as your legs will carry you."_

" _Naneth-"_

" _GO!"_

Ithiriel sat in the back of the cavern, staring at the mug of wine that the bartender brought her. Her hood was drawn over her head, concealing her fair, elven, and disturbed face in a cloud of darkness.

She twisted the Ring, blocking out the sounds of the drunken men around her with her memories.

 _GO!_ It was the last thing her mother had ever said to her. The last word before she was slaughtered by the orcs, though, Ithiriel was sure, with a few kills of her own.

The elleth sighed, slowly picking up the mug, slowly taking a sip as her sharp, blue eyes scanned the cavern. She had spent most of her adult life among Men, but she had never grown accustomed to their strange ways. True, she often had to adopt them herself, but only as a disguise. Though how much longer she would be able to fake her identity and live away from her home and family, she did not know.

Ithiriel's muscles tensed, and she laid a hand on her sword as a stranger brushed by her. But her eyes rested on the folded note he left on her table. Keeping an eye on the stranger, she unfolded it, and gasped. It read, 'GO!'


	2. Chapter 2: The Crossing to Rivendell

"What's wrong, Gilrael? You look troubled."

Gilrael sighed. "I had a dream last night."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "About?"

Gilrael exhaled. "The last time I saw my parents."

"Really? Do you remember now?"

She nodded. "Yes, but that's not the important part. I remember my name. My real name."

Legolas' mouth widened into a smile as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Ilweranael," he breathed. "I knew all along, but before they left, your parents told us to call you Gilrael. I do not know why."

Gilrael pursed her lips. "They feared a danger that was coming to me. They thought if they could take me away to Lorien I would be safe. But the danger overtook us on the way, and I have suffered under it."

She glanced up at the tree. "I know this is a strange place to tell you, but I could not wait. I felt you had to know as soon as possible."

"Heril nin Gilrael, hir nin Legolas!"

The elves' heads snapped up and they stepped away from each other as Firlowen, the royal messenger, rode up. He beckoned toward the palace. "Thranduil requests both of you to head straight to the palace. And let me tell you, he is very impatient."

Legolas frowned and pointed up to the pine tree in which the horrid creature they were guarding was in. "What of Gollum? We need to stay here to make sure he does not escape."

Firlowen unrolled a scroll. "Hmm, in his own words, the king said, 'It is not the prince's or my highest advisor's job to do mere guard duty! I need Legolas and Gilrael back at the palace immediately! No delays!'"

The messenger rolled it back up and stuck it in his bag. "So, there you have it."

Legolas crossed his arms. "That still doesn't answer the problem of Gollum. If he escapes-"

"The guards will make sure he does not escape," Firlowen assured him.

The prince sighed, then flipped onto his horse, but Gilrael hesitated. "Firlowen, Gollum is known to be a deceitful creature. If we are not careful and he escapes, it will mean death."

Falluen strode forward. "Don't worry, Gilrael. He's a sack of skin without his _precious_ , whatever that is. Utterly harmless. Even if he's not, we're well trained. He won't escape us."

Gilrael frowned.

"Don't worry! I'm here. I'll make sure everything is in order."

She sighed. "Alright, but I'm not happy. I will be back shortly." She mounted her horse, and with a nod to Legolas, took off for the palace.

Legolas' father, the king, was lounging on his throne, as usual. Legolas marched up and demanded, "What is wrong _this_ time?"

Thranduil stood and jumped down the steps. "I need a report on the Mirkwood spiders _now_. Have you slain them all yet? Gracious me, it's been _ages_." The two younger elves exchanged annoyed yet worried glances.

Gilrael informed him, "My lord, we have cut most of them off all throughout the realm, but if we could attack them at their spawning source in Dol Guldor, they would not bother anyone ever again."

Thranduil glared at her. "You do not know what evil festers in that evil place. I will not risk elven blood to destroy it."

Gilrael pointed out, "Actually, I _do_ know – "

"But isn't that all the more reason to attack it?" Legolas asked. "If we could destroy the evil before it rises to its full power, less innocent blood could be shed."

Thranduil shook his head. "No, not yet. I need you two to rid the Woodland Realm entirely of the spiders, instead of guarding that Gollum. The guards can do a perfectly fine job of it without you both."

Suddenly, Firlowen sprinted into the throne hall, very distraught, while in the distance horns sounded, signalling an invasion.

The messenger shouted, "Orc attack on the southern borders! We believe Gollum has escaped!"

Thranduil sighed as Legolas gave him an _I-told-you-so_ look and Gilrael frowned worriedly. "Escaped?"

Firlowen pursed his lips. "We believe so. Arkanil is leading the defence. You must make haste!"

The four elves raced to horses and galloped swiftly to the scene, together with reinforcements. Together they drove off the orc pack, who, strangely, retreated quickly. Then Thranduil headed back to the palace to order a careful watch on all the borders, and lash out on Arkanil, the head general and responsible for scouting out for orcs.

Gilrael and Legolas went to the tree where Gollum had been sitting in. No traces of the creature could be seen, but remains of dead elves and some orcs were scattered throughout the area.

Gilrael was anguished. "I should have known!" She kicked a tree in frustration.

Legolas frowned. "Known what? It is not your fault, mellon nin."

She knelt next to a bloodied warrior, and choked back a sob when she recognized him. "Falluen…" Legolas widened his eyes and knelt.

"No…" A tear rolled down Gilrael's cheek. "Legolas, I could have stopped the orcs if I had been here. Then Falluen would have been alive!"

The world swirled around the prince as he bent over. Falluen had died from a stab to the chest and an arrow through the head, most brutally murdered. Legolas swallowed his tears, and hardened his face like stone. Falluen, his best friend, most cheerful companion, one who had stood by his side when Gilrael had disappeared, when his mother had died…Legolas wanted to march into Mordor and kill Sauron personally.

"I know how you feel," she told him as she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Like it would be best to take a few Eagles and knock him out. But it's not possible, mellon. We'll have to take a different way."

Legolas heaved a deep breath. "How? How was this done?"

Gilrael pursed her lips. "There were many orcs. Too many for a dozen or so elves. Most of them escaped, though if they took Gollum or not, I do not know. I believe the orc invasion was purposed specifically to rescue him, and they timed it to happen the moment I left."

Legolas glanced at her with tears in his eyes. "What were you supposed to do if you had been here?"

Gilrael looked away. "M-maybe later. One thing is for sure. The great evil is rising more quickly than we had thought."

Then the two elves looked at the dead guards who had been killed swiftly under surprise.

Gilrael said, "We must arrange proper burials for them." Legolas looked at her, confused. It was not the custom of the immortal elves to have graveyards.

She said, "There is a clearing not far from here where we can bury them and where they will rest in peace. Send for elves to aid us, Legolas." The prince did so, and shortly the guards were properly placed in the earth.

Gilrael and Legolas then headed back to the elven halls and reported the number of deaths to the king. Thranduil was reading a letter, then looked at the two elves with a hardened, sorrowful face.

"My kingdom has been attacked, and I fear it will not be the last time. Lord Elrond is holding an important council to discuss the fate of Middle Earth. I hope it will be able to decide how to fight back against the enemy."

He took a deep breath. "I am sending Legolas as my messenger, and Elrond has requested your presence, Gilrael. Be sure to report the escape of Gollum. It may be the start of something much deadlier."

Thranduil pursed his lips. "I am not happy about sending you both off in these dark days, especially w-with Falluen…dead. But I have, at least, Arkanil and Etrielle to aid me, and the world needs both of your talents. It is time for you to leave, to execute the gifts you have been honing over the centuries. You may not return in a long while."

"When should we leave, my lord?" Gilrael asked.

Thranduil wiped a tear from his eyes. "As immediately as you can. Elrond was very clear in his letter that matters were urgent."

The two elves quickly packed their things into bags, then said good-bye to Arkanil and Etrielle. Legolas lagged behind as she hugged him.

"You must be extra vigilant, little Laiqua," Etrielle urged him as she brushed a strand of golden hair over his ear. "It will be long before I see you again, but always remember, in your darkest hour, I love you."

Legolas nodded, unable to say anything. Etrielle had filled the gap in his life when his mother got killed. She was his adopted mother, giving him the maternal care only mothers gave. He would miss her terribly.

Just as the elves mounted their horses and were about to leave with a few escorts, Thranduil suddenly ran up to them, and stood by Rochest, Legolas' horse.

"Legolas, I know we haven't always agreed, and I have done many wrong things as a father, but I still love you. You know that, don't you?"

The prince could only stiffly nod, then urged Rochest to go. But as the elves departed from the Woodland Realm, Legolas allowed a tear to fall. He knew he would miss his father too, no matter how long he was gone.

The ride to Rivendell was, remarkably, deathly silent. Usually when they took off toward that fair valley, the company was alive with laughter and jokes, expectations of their High-Elven friends. But that time, all were struck with the cold hand of death, ruminating the dark noose that surrounded the Free peoples of Middle Earth.

Gilrael led the group, being the most familiar with the path, and resolved to pass through Lorien, and their safe-guarded path through the foothills of the Misty Mountains, into the West. But when her mind was not focused on their path, it was focused on her past.

 _Ilweranael_ …daughter of rainbows. Rainbows were a symbol of hope. But why did her parents hide the name? Everyone knew her real name, but in her childhood, everyone called her Gilrael. Why?

She shook her head. She didn't know, but perhaps Glorfindel did. He was her closest teacher when she was young, training under his guide in Imladris so many centuries ago. And he was close to her parents. If anyone knew, he was the one.

* * *

Nuileth stood on the branch of a Mallorn tree, gazing into the eastern plains with her white bow by her side. When suddenly, her sharp grey eyes caught a black speck on the horizon.

With her elven vision, she narrowed in, and swore. Gilrael, lieutenant of the Woodland Realm, the only elf she hated. Then her eyes narrowed in pain as she saw the ellon riding next to her. Legolas.

He had often passed through Lorien on the way to Imladris, but never for more than a day. And he never visited her, nor she him. So in the centuries since he left Lorien, Nuileth had never met him face to face.

And she didn't intend to then. The elleth slid down the tree and ran to the scout nearest her, Rumil.

"An escort from the Woodland Realm is approaching."

Rumil lit up. "Really? Escorting who?"

Nuileth crossed her arms. "Gilrael. And Legolas. Could you handle them? I -"

"Don't want to meet Legolas. Of course. Though you won't be able to prolong it forever."

Nuileth shook her head, and glared bitterly through the woods. "He doesn't want to speak to me, and he never will. Frankly, I don't either. He's all joy with, with Gilrael."

Rumil raised an eyebrow. "You know, I don't think so. He's hinted several times that he doesn't hate you."

Nuileth huffed. "Hinted is not good enough. Nothing is. He did his damage, a-and, oh, why don't you just go out and meet them. Silvan elves are feisty if you make them wait."

She whirled around and took off through the trees, leaving a resignedly confused Rumil behind.

Shortly after, Nuileth crouched in a tree, gazing down in anger at the group of Mirkwood elves. They were conversing with Haldir, but Nuileth wasn't paying attention to the content. She was focused on Gilrael, and Legolas.

Yes, she saw how he could love Gilrael, a strikingly beautiful elleth with deep, soulful brown eyes, and an authoritative grace, but she had an air of sadness. Of suffering, and a hard life. How could Legolas, a cheerful, optimistic ellon, be attracted to such a miserable spirit?

Nuileth gazed at Legolas, sinking him in. She preferred it this way, observing him all she wanted without him staring back. He was just as she remembered, golden hair, glowing skin, and those gorgeous blue eyes that…were…looking…straight…at…her.

Nuileth sucked in a quick breath. He was smiling, gazing up with adoring eyes. They locked eyes for a moment, one blue and cheerful, the other dark and grey. Then, just as quickly, he looked to Gilrael, and Nuileth disappeared from their sight. She didn't want Gilrael to see her. Ever. And she didn't want to meet her. Ever.

The group left quickly, since they were evidently on an urgent mission. Haldir found her a moment later, and he sat on the branch next to her.

"They didn't say what the purpose of their trip was. You look troubled."

Nuileth pursed her lips. "I _am_ troubled. Every time I see him, I-I just feel…"

Haldir frowned. "What?"

"Jealous. I hate her, Haldir. I do. It's wrong, I know, but-"

"Maybe you should speak to the Lady."

Nuileth stared at him. He never interrupted, as a rule. Never.

Haldir looked to the side. "I know you feel uncomfortable about the matter, but jealousy just rots the soul. It's not healthy for you to hold it in."

Nuileth stood. "I can't, Haldir. You know why."

The ellon sighed. "Well, you do know that Lady Galadriel probably knows already, right?"

Nuileth sighed. "Yes. But as long as she doesn't bring it up, I'm fine. I'd best get back to the border."

Once there, she sat on another branch, her legs dangling as her thoughts wandered. He _looked_ at her! After all those centuries, he _looked_ at her! And he smiled! But how had he known she was watching him?

Nuileth smiled to herself. He must have been watching her. All those years, all those times, he must have kept an eye on her without her knowing it. But why did he never approach her?

She sighed, but suddenly, her eyes caught sight of yet another object on the horizon. By Eru, what was all the attention for Lorien those days? Her eyes narrowed in, and she frowned. It was clearly a Silvan elleth, dressed in the garb of a Wood Elf, with fiery red hair. Was she part of the escort?

But the elleth was tangled, and her clothes were stained, as if she had been living out in the wilderness for a while, and was not accustomed to it.

Nuileth climbed down the tree and met the elleth as she ran in. "Can I help-"

"Legolas! The prince of the Woodland Realm?"

"I know who he is," Nuileth answered, rather annoyed. Was everything about him?

"Was he here? I need him _now_!"

Nuileth blinked. How many lovers did that prince _have_?

"How are you related to him, may I ask?"

The elleth seemed very anxious, and slightly crazed. "It's not what you think, I assure you! I'm his cousin!"

Nuileth frowned. "He has a cousin?"

The elleth waved a hand. "Yes, it's a long story. But please! Is he here?"

"No, he passed through here maybe an hour ago with about a dozen elves."

"Really? To Rivendell?"

Nuileth nodded. "That's our suspicion, yes. Who are you?"

The elleth seemed frustrated and eager to get moving. "Tauriel. Now if you please-"

"What are you doing here? So far away from home?"

Tauriel exhaled loudly. "Isn't it obvious? I'm looking for Legolas!"

Nuileth crossed her arms. "I'm not going to be fooled, Tauriel. Are you an exile?"

The young elleth stared at her. "H-how did you know that?"

Nuileth stared at her for a moment, then smiled. She was so young, so inexperienced, so naïve.

"Come with me, Tauriel. I'll get you cleaned up."

"B-but Legolas!"

Nuileth peered at her. "Why do you want to find him?"

Tauriel hesitated, then finally admitted, "I'm lonely. I miss his company. And I don't know how much longer Thranduil expects me to wander the wilderness before I can bring honour back to my family, and return home. I don't think I can stand it much longer."

Why, Thranduil must be getting worse as the years went on.

Nuileth smiled. "Why don't you stay here for a little bit. I'll keep you company. You wood-elves are very similar to us."

Tauriel smiled. "Thank you. But I won't stay for long. I-I'm actually on a mission, you see, while I'm able to travel. Until I fulfil it-"

"You won't be able to rest. I understand. Come, I will show you to my flet. Do you like white or grey silk more?"

* * *

Ithiriel glanced up at the stranger, who was standing outside the cavern. She pursed her lips, folded the note, and stuck it into her pocket. Then she finished the wine in one gulp, left a few coins on the table, and made her way through the crowds of men.

Once outside, she could see the stranger was smoking, but he stopped when he saw her.

"You must make haste to Rohan," he gruffly told her. "A new advisor has been appointed. Grima. Do you know him?"

"I know _of_ him, but no, I do not know him personally," Ithiriel curtly replied. "Who are you?"

The stranger swallowed. "A worried man. Fearful of what will become of my country if the king listens to that serpent."

Ithiriel glanced at him. "What do you want me to do?"

"I've heard of you. No one knows your name, but they call you the Silver Hope."

She snorted. "Not much of a title."

"But true! You bring hope with those silver weapons of yours, slaying our enemies. I wonder if you could stop by Rohan and make your own opinions about Grima."

Ithiriel leaned back, thinking about it for a moment. "Tell you what. I have a few things I need to finish up here, but in a day or two, I'll see about this Grima." Her swift eyes caught movement in the shadows, and she scribbled something on a piece of paper.

"A serpent, you say?"

The stranger nodded. "Pale face, slick tongue, like a snake. Lifeless eyes, greenish and cloudy."

Ithiriel suddenly straightened. "I know those symptoms."

"Really?"

"A servant of Saruman," she murmured in Sindarin.

"What?"

"Never mind," Ithiriel briskly announced as she patted his shoulder. "You leave tonight, Ceorl?"

The man gasped. "You know my name?"

Ithiriel smirked, walking past him. "I know many things. Like a very unskilled thief just stole your horse."

"What?!"

"And I just stole your purse."

The man stood there in shock as Ithiriel tossed the moneybag over her shoulder, laughing. "You'll find your horse in the back of a stable, four buildings down to your left. Baranor, the manager, will let you in when you give him the slip of paper in your wallet."

She mounted her horse and galloped off, risking a glance behind. He was staring at the paper, completely puzzled. Ithiriel hid a smile. She had done Baranor a favour a while back, and had once calmed down a wild horse of his. He would be willing to aid a man sent by her whose stolen horse was hidden in his stables.

As for what she knew, it could be blamed on her Ring, the mightiest of the four elven ones. She never unleashed its full power, but she used bits and pieces of it for her work. Not fighting, of course. It was too powerful for that. But hints, some information, knowledge of the world…quite useful. Fortunately for Middle Earth, she never used it for evil, but caused many a troubled spirit in the lands of Gondor and Rohan to be grateful for her assistance.

Ithiriel the Silver Hope. Interesting name. But it suited her, she supposed. Silver Hope…


	3. Chapter 3: Flight to the Ford

The moment Gilrael passed underneath the arches leading into the gardens of Rivendell, she knew, by the fact that she was still seated in her horse, that it was a very dark day.

Legolas nodded. "They must be scouting."

"Gilrael, thank Eru!" someone cried. The elves turned to the direction of the voice, and found Lord Elrond hurrying to them. Dark days, indeed, for the Lord of Rivendell to be rushing towards them in such a manner.

"I hate to send you off after you have just arrived, but I need you to head north immediately."

Gilrael frowned. "My lord?"

"As you may or may not know, the Nine have been sent from Mordor."

"The Nine?!"

Elrond nodded gravely. "And they are here, in the West, on a mission to secure the One."

"So you want me to go find them?"

"Yes. There are few that can ride openly against the Ringwraiths, but what few there are, they have been sent. Glorfindel, my sons, and others. Only one left is you."

Gilrael pursed her lips. "Very well. Where do you want me to go?"

Elrond unrolled a map. "The others have been sent here, west, south, and east. I have left north for you."

"Any particular reason?"

The Lord of Rivendell looked grave. "You are well aware that those lands are wild, unorderly, with abandoned fortresses and burnt villages."

Gilrael nodded.

"You are the one most suited to such lands. You are used to them. You can travel swiftly and unnoticed. And you need to go _now_."

Gilrael pursed her lips. "North. Yes, my lord."

"Look for Aragorn, too."

"Estel?"

Elrond nodded. "He will be leading Frodo here, with the…you know."

Gilrael raised an eyebrow. "Yes, my lord."

She turned to Legolas, and jerked her head back slightly. "Go, make sure they're settled. I'll be back as soon as I can." With that brief farewell, she nodded to the rest of the elves, and took off through the forest.

North? What an absurd idea. Estel would avoid those lands like any sensible Ranger. No, he would be in the west. And the Nazgul would follow.

Gilrael crossed the Bruinen and started galloping towards Bree. She marked the tracks of Asfaloth, Glorfindel's horse, along the East-West road, then broke off into the woods. Frodo…Frodo Baggins. He must have inherited the Ring from his uncle, Bilbo, and was making haste with it and Estel to Rivendell, where it would be temporarily safe.

Luckily (or not) for the once-closest companion of the Dark Lord, she could track the evil power as if it was a magnet pulling her towards it. After a short while, she neared it, and a whispering voice sliced through her head, accompanied with, as usual, searing pain.

" _Take it, Gilrael!"_ he urged her. _"They are helpless under you. They will not be able to fight back."_

 _Shut up, Sauron,_ she ordered him.

" _My servants have already stabbed the bearer. You will be able to take it easily."_

 _Never,_ she declared through grit teeth. Her head throbbed in waves of agony.

" _This is your moment, after all those centuries of training. Take it, and the pain will stop. You will be the most powerful-"_

"SHUT UP!" Gilrael yelled out loud. Though she was still shaking, the pain slowly stopped. But the shout might have busted her cover.

She galloped into a clearing where, rather to her surprise, she saw three hobbits, all of them tired-looking and fearful.

They gasped in surprise when they saw her, but she ignored them and jumped off Ruinil.

"Where is Estel?" she demanded.

The hobbits stared at her numbly for a moment before the chubby one stuttered, "Y-you mean Strider?"

Gilrael threw her hands up in exasperation. Him and his many names!

"Yes, Strider, whatever. Where is he?"

"L-lookin' for athelas leaves, for Mr. Frodo. He's terribly injured-"

Gilrael whirled around in a circle, and her eyes landed on the pale hobbit, lying senseless on the leaves. Then her head whipped up as she heard Estel exclaim, "Gilrael?!"

He seemed thoroughly surprised to see her, and the clump of the healing herbs lay forgotten in his hand. She pursed her lips. "Mae govannen, mellon-nin."

The hobbits stared at them with wide eyes. "U-um, Strider?"

Estel waved a hand. "Do not fear, Sam. Gilrael is the first person we need here, besides Lord Elrond himself."

He turned to her. "It's a Morgul Blade, Gilrael. I have the hilt."

The elleth widened her eyes. "A Morgul blade? How long ago?"

Estel pursed his lips. "A few hours ago, I suppose."

" _A few hours without treatment_? He'll die! Or worse!"

The Ranger glanced at the hobbits, who looked doubly anxious then.

"Gilrael, you must speak to me in Sindarin," he urged her. "You will scare them."

She had taken the athelas leaves from him and had mixed it with some healing herbs of her own. Then with some water from her flask, she ground it into the wound.

"Aaah!" Frodo yelled, writhing in pain.

Gilrael glared at the wound and shouted at it in Black Speech.

Estel widened his eyes. "Wouldn't Sindarin be more effective?"

"Shut up, Estel. I know what I'm doing, unlike _you_." Fortunately, she had said _that_ in Sindarin.

* * *

While she was treating Frodo, the hobbits whispered to one other.

"She's an elf, Sam!" Pippin exclaimed as he nudged the hobbit.

"Yes, I know, and not at all what Mr. Bilbo told of her."

"He knew this elf?" Merry asked incredulously.

Sam nodded. "Helped him a bit on his adventure. Seems from his stories that she's quite an important one. Well, I only hope she'll save Mr. Frodo, and help get us safely to Rivendell."

Gilrael stood and conversed quietly with Aragorn. He looked relieved, and glanced towards the bushes. But Sam quickened his breath. It was the sound of hooves. The sound he had grown to loathe.

* * *

Gilrael and Estel glanced up with joy as a horse burst through the heather, its mane flaming like diamonds in the dusk which was only surpassed by that of its rider, whose hair flowed in shimmering golden by his speed.

"Mae govannen, Estel! Mae govannen, Gilrael!"

The man ran forward at the ellon slipped off his horse. "I did not look to see you here, Glorfindel, after Gilrael arrived."

He nodded, glancing at the elleth with amusement. "Seems she disobeyed Lord Elrond's orders. Again."

Gilrael smiled. "Why waste time?"

"Indeed."

Estel beckoned the terrified hobbits forward, switching to the Common Language. "No need to be afraid! This is Glorfindel, who lives in the house of Elrond."

The ellon smiled at Frodo. "Hail, and well met at last! I was sent from Rivendell to look for you. Grave danger was feared to be on the road."

"Then Gandalf has arrived?" the hobbit asked hopefully.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Not before I left. But that was nine days ago."

Gilrael blinked. "It took you nine days to find what I found in maybe half an hour?"

The ellon raised an eyebrow. "Oh? We will speak more later." He turned to the hobbits. "There are ﬁve behind us, and when they ﬁnd your trail upon the Road they will ride after us like the wind. And they are not all. Where the other four may be, I do not know. I fear that we may ﬁnd the Ford is already held against us."

Gilrael pursed her lips. "The four others…they are very near. You lead them on, Glorfindel. I will try to delay them."

The elf nodded gravely, and Estel pursed his lips. "Be careful, Gilrael."

She snorted. "I could handle those guys in my sleep. Believe me, they're tame compared to…never mind."

The elleth swung onto her horse, waved farewell to the hobbits, and dashed off into the wilderness.

The Nazgul…what different circumstances than before! As the lieutenant of Mordor, they had feared her. They were servants of Sauron, yes, but in reality they served _her_. Followed behind her, causing terror to the lands as they rode from east to west. Now, however, what would they do when they saw her? Hopefully, obey her commands.

Soon enough, she intercepted all Nine of them riding hard straight towards her. They slowed, however, when they saw her, and she glared at them.

" _What_ are you doing?"

The Witch-King of Angmar steadied his horse. "We're tracking the halfling who is carrying the One Ring, my lady."

Gilrael fumed. "A halfling? And all _nine_ of you are after him?!"

"We had orders-"

"From _who_? Tuzern?" That orc was especially infamous for his lack of intelligence.

The Witch-King looked offended. "No, my lady. From Lord Roquen."

Gilrael snorted. "Oh, so it's _Lord_ Roquen now, is it? Wonder how he got to that position. This manoeuvre of his is so incredibly stupid-"

"Excuse me for interrupting, my lady, but I fail to see the flaw. The Ring is the one thing that would guarantee our success, and if we could get it-"

"A halfling!" Gilrael exclaimed. "Have you become so incapable that you need _nine_ Nazgul to secure a ring from a _halfling_?!"

The Witch-King frowned. "But there's not just a halfling. There's a Dunedain."

Gilrael put on a fake pathetic pose. "Oh, a Dunedain. You poor things. AND WHY DO YOU NEED ALL NINE TO KILL A MAN?!"

All of the Nazgul flinched, then the Witch-King protested, "But there's not just a halfling and a Dunedain. Elves are being sent as well. We believe one of the most powerful, Glorfindel, is on the way. He's a dangerous foe."

Gilrael glared at him. "Is there anyone else you forgot to mention?"

Shake of head.

She steadied her horse. "Now you're making more sense. But whose brilliant idea was it to ride as one big group?"

"Lord Roquen's," the Witch-King replied. "He said it would cause more fear."

"Fear, by Eru. Your goal is to get the Ring, not spread fear! Here are your new orders: send four rapidly ahead to the Ford, cutting off the halfling with the Ring. The other five will close in behind, thus surrounding them. Understand?"

The Witch-King nodded. "Yes, my lady. That is very wise."

She huffed. "And tell Roquen to step up his tactics, or I'm going to have to quit my disguise and march over there and take over myself. What are you standing there for? GO!"

The Nazgul didn't need to do anything for the horses to rear up and dash away at top speed. Gilrael watched them go with a heavy heart. How much longer would she have to pretend to be following Sauron's orders before he had enough?

Still, at least this time she would be victorious. She had delayed the Ring-Wraiths long enough, and she knew Glorfindel and Elrond's magic would work to make sure Frodo received healing in time and that the Ring was kept secure.

Gilrael urged her horse forward, and taking hidden paths, arrived in Imladris speedily. She was just in time to meet the Lady of Rivendell in the stables, also recently returned from a trip.

"Arwen?"

The elleth whirled around in surprise, a look of guilt briefly passing over her face. But she smiled when she saw her old friend.

"Gilrael! I knew the Silvan elves had arrived, but Legolas tells me you dashed off again."

Gilrael nodded. "Dressed in travelling gear?"

Arwen blinked. "What? No, no, normal riding clothes."

The warrior raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Arwen. Don't try lying to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Right. You never do your hair like that, you never wear those clothes, and you certainly never carry your sword with you unless you're planning on fighting."

Arwen pursed her lips. "You're not going to tell Ada, are you?"

Gilrael frowned. "Why not? What's wrong?"

The elleth shook her head. "I wanted to help. Elladan and Elrohir and all the others were sent out about a week ago, with no results. I wanted to help. I knew I would be able to find Estel. But Ada told me it wasn't safe, and I was supposed to stay here, to wait. I've done literally nothing in Lorien for all my life, and finally there's action, and he tells me to sit quietly and weave dresses! Can you expect anything else from me? Of course I went."

Gilrael crossed her arms. "But you didn't find Estel."

"I did! I did!" Her face fell. "But Glorfindel had arrived first. However," she said as her face lit up, "he told me to take Frodo on Asfaloth and ride hard to the Ford. I think he knew how bored I was. We made it just as the Nazgul came, and they almost surrounded us. But Asfaloth waded across the Ford, Glorfindel came and wielded his golden power, and Mithrandir was simply glorious. You'll never guess what he did."

Gilrael rolled her eyes. "As the water flooded over the Nine, his magic had the foam look like horses."

Arwen widened her eyes. "How did you know?"

Gilrael smiled. "He does that a lot."

The maiden shook her head slowly. "I never get to see the world like you do. I don't know things, except weaving and dancing and turning away eager suitors. Speaking of which, how are you getting along with Legolas?"

Gilrael quickly turned and made sure Rohiel was comfortable in her stall. "I don't want to talk about that."

Arwen grinned. "Oooh, this will be good. Arguments?"

Gilrael whirled around and cried, "No! He's perfectly fine! He's my friend, and I just don't think about him like…like you think about Estel!"

" _He_ thinks about _you_ like Estel thinks about me," Arwen sweetly announced.

Gilrael glared at her. "I don't think Legolas-"

"Don't think I what?"

The two elleths twirled to the front of the stables in surprise. The Sinda leaned against the door way with his arms crossed.

"I'm waiting."

Gilrael strode quickly towards him. "I don't think you should be eavesdropping on other people's conversations." She swiftly walked past him and disappeared in the gardens.

Arwen laughed. "Isn't she obvious?"

Legolas frowned, and watched her go. "No, I don't think she is."

Arwen slowly walked up to him. "What do you mean?"

The prince glanced at her. "Why are you dressed like that? Why is your hair like that? Why are you carrying your sword?"

Arwen blinked. "What are you-"

"Come on, Arwen, I know all your fashion statements for every occasion." Legolas grinned. "But don't worry. I won't tell your father."

Arwen exhaled, relieved. "Oh, good."

"But I do believe that's where Gilrael is headed."

The elleth widened her eyes. "Oh no!" She slipped past Legolas and ran through the gardens in a way that would have certainly displeased both the Lord of Rivendell and the Lady of Lothlorien.

The Sinda smiled. Perhaps the visit would be useful on more than one occasion. The happiness, for example, could cheer up the most grave soul. Every grave soul, that is, except for Gilrael's.

 _Ilweranael's,_ Legolas thought.


	4. Chapter 4: Not-So Many Meetings

Ithiriel cut her way through the cheering crowds, her hood drawn over her face as her keen eyes pierced through the glint of silver arm-mail. Boromir, son of Denethor, Lord of Gondor, had led the army into victory against a battle with the enemy, and they were celebrating. A bit too early, the elleth thought.

Finally, hidden behind a crumbling stone wall were Denethor and his two sons.

"…and you need to make haste to Rivendell and bring me back that Ring!"

Ithiriel caught her breath, and watched unnoticed.

Faramir volunteered, "I can go while Boromir stays to lead the army."

Denethor curled his lip in disgust. "Not you, _Faramir_. Boromir will go."

The younger son frowned. "Why not me?"

The Lord of Gondor glared at him. "You mess up everything. You're not worthy to do anything. Boromir, on the other hand, is the pride and joy of the country. He will go."

"I have to disagree with that," Ithiriel announced as she stepped out from the shadows. "I think it's a bad idea."

Denethor sniffed. "You think everything I say is a bad idea."

The elleth stepped forward. "Not everything. I think it's a good idea for a messenger to be sent to Rivendell. I don't think it's a good idea for Boromir to go, and I don't think it's a good idea for either Boromir or Faramir to bring the Ring back."

Denethor bristled. "And why not?"

Ithiriel stared down at him. "The Ring is not a weapon to be stolen for your own purposes, Denethor. It is too powerful, and you are too weak. You and Boromir. Faramir, however…"

She turned to the younger son, and raised her head. "You have a chance."

Denethor glared at her. "I won't have any _woman_ interfering with my plans. You may be skilled and knowledgeable, Ithiluven, and you may have been _raised_ by elves, but you're not an elf, so you have no power here. Now go! Off with you!"

Ithiriel raised an eyebrow. Her cover as a woman with her fake name was going well.

"You will regret the decision to ignore my advice. That Ring will never be yours, and if you steal it, Boromir, it will result in massive destruction for all of Gondor, yes, all of Middle Earth."

With that, Ithiriel swept her cloak and disappeared among the crowds of men.

About an hour or two later, she sat on her horse as regally as she could muster, and saw Boromir approach her slowly.

"Ithiluven. What brings you here to the forests before Minas Tirith?"

The elleth lifted her head so only her blue eyes pierced out of the shadows. "I come to meet you. Personally. Alone."

Boromir raised an eyebrow. "To scold me. To tell me not to bring the Ring back."

"Precisely."

"I cannot listen to you. So if you will please get out of the way…"

But though he tried to steer his horse to the left, Ithiriel didn't need to do anything for her elven horse to block him.

"Come, come, Boromir, if I want to talk with you, I will. You cannot prevent me."

The man glared at her. "I will tell my horse to gallop straight through you."

"No you won't!" Ithiriel sang sweetly.

Boromir snorted. "Right, what are you going to do about it? Sing to me?"

"I'll do this." Her face hardened, and she tapped her scabbard. "I didn't want to use force, but now that you mention it, you'll find me a superior swordsman than you."

Boromir smirked, but he made no move. "What did you want to tell me?"

Ithiriel leaned back. "I don't believe you fully understand what would happen if you were to take the Ring for yourself."

"I wouldn't take it for myself! I would take it for Gondor," he passionately declared.

The elleth raised an eyebrow. "You underestimate the Ring's power. Once you have it, you will not give it up. Your predecessor, Isildur, should be a grave example. He kept the Ring, and look where that led him. He was killed, and Gondor entered into darkness. If you take the Ring, your fate will be just like his."

Boromir shook his head. "No, it won't. Now, can you please move aside?"

Ithiriel stared at him. "You will regret this, Boromir. And you will suffer greatly for it."

She whispered to her horse, and it swiftly leaped to the side of the man and continued on through the forest. Her heart was heavy, heavy with knowledge of future paths. Her Ring had shown her what would happen, and though she tried to prevent it, her efforts proved futile.

They say do not go to the elves for counsel, for they will say both yes and no. But Ithiriel knew too much to stay quiet and ambiguous. She was an elleth of action, and her next course would be to ride to Rohan. And see what she could do about that Grima.

* * *

"No, Arwen, I am _not_ going to the feast."

The younger elleth pouted. "Why not? There'll be eating, and drinking, and singing, and storytelling, and dancing-"

"I don't eat, or drink, or sing, or tell stories, and most of all, I do not dance."

Arwen protested, "But Legolas will be there! You can dance with him!"

Gilrael glared at her. " _He's_ the one I don't want to dance with! A shame, since he's the only decent ellon at it. The rest are absolute fools."

"Even my brothers?"

" _Especially_ your brothers. I broke my leg dancing with one of them before."

Arwen smiled. "Then why won't you dance with Legolas? You're right, he's a fabulous dancer."

Gilrael crossed her arms. "He hates dancing. He'd rather wear his circlet."

Arwen laughed. "But I'm sure he'd love to dance with _you_."

Gilrael frowned. "Why are so fixed on us? I can choose whomever I want whenever I want. That will only happen when I am no longer an elf."

Arwen's eyes sparkled. "Because Legolas is amazing! He's kind, and cheerful, and humorous, not to mention exceptionally handsome and a skilled warrior."

"Well, why don't you marry him?" Gilrael hotly asked.

Arwen suddenly flushed, and looked down. "I…couldn't. Not someone like him. I-In some ways, he's _too_ perfect. That's why I like Aragorn. He's in the middle."

Gilrael raised an eyebrow. "You like a reckless, dirty _man_ more than any of the charming ellons in either Imladris or Lorien? I can't believe you."

Arwen laughed. "Yes, he's my Estel. But Legolas is the right one for you, I just know it."

"What makes you think that?"

The elleth tossed her hair to the side professionally. "I have lots of experience. Believe me, I know when an ellon is interested in you. Its all in the look."

Gilrael rolled her eyes. "Look or not, I'm not going. I don't even have anything to wear!"

"Lame excuse! You can borrow one of my gowns. I'll even do your hair, and you'll look gorgeous!"

Gilrael shook her head, and strode out of her friend's room. "No thank you."

"But even _I'm_ going!"

"You love that stuff!" Gilrael called.

She quickly made sure to disappear in the gardens, but as the night drew on, she perched herself in a tree over the Hall of Fire. Bilbo was singing one of his poems, much to the delight of the elves, and others, including Arwen, were dancing to ringing music.

Gilrael sighed as she watched unnoticed. Perhaps once she had enjoyed such pursuits, but after her imprisonment…she could enjoy nothing ever again.

The elleth jumped, startled, as she presently found an elf sitting next to her.

"Legolas Thrandulion, I declare if you continue this-"

"Would you like a biscuit?" he offered. "The baker made it especially for the occasion, and I was able to smuggle one out before the twins took the rest."

Gilrael blinked. "They're back?"

Legolas sighed. "Just in time for the biscuits. Coincidence? I don't think so. Are you going to eat it?"

Gilrael raised an eyebrow, but took it gratefully. She had eaten nothing, literally, for two weeks.

They watched the revellers in the Hall of Fire while she ate it, and Legolas remarked, "We missed you at the banquet."

Gilrael pursed her lips. "I don't like the company of men and dwarves. And I don't like eating."

"You just ate that biscuit faster than I could," he pointed out.

Gilrael scowled. "It doesn't mean I like _doing_ it! I don't like feasts or banquets, Legolas, and you know it."

The Sinda nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I do know it, but I don't know _why_ it's true."

Gilrael shook her head. "I don't take pleasure in anything anymore."

"I've noticed."

"I-I just can't! Not after what I've been through."

Legolas sighed, and slowly took her hands in his. "But you've _been_ through it for hundreds of years already. It's time to move on, Gilrael. Make new memories, happier ones, and forget about the old."

Gilrael couldn't say anything. What was she supposed to say? She could never tell him what had happened to her. Never ever.

The Sinda frowned with concern. "You know I only want the best for you, Gilrael. You can tell me anything."

"You'd hate me," the elleth whispered. "You'd never want to see me again. In fact, you might kill me."

Legolas stared at her. "W-what? It's that serious?"

"It's that serious. Now if you please, I need to go."

She stood on the branch while Legolas stayed seated, but he remarked, "Elrond called the banquet a feast of Many Meetings, because Dwarves and Men from all over Middle Earth have come. But you are having a quiet time of solitude with maybe two meetings: Arwen, and me. You can't limit yourself forever, Gilrael. You can't carry your pain alone."

With that, the Sinda slid gracefully to the ground, leaving Gilrael on the tree gasping for breath.


	5. Chapter 5: Council of Elrond

The next morning, Gilrael was climbing out of a trap dug by the twins in the woods when, rather to her surprise, she saw Lord Elrond peering down at her.

"That's quite a deep one," he remarked. "My sons must have spent ages digging it."

Gilrael scowled, and scrambled up the rest of the hole. "They're getting better at hiding them, too. You have to stop it."

Elrond exhaled wearily. "I don't know how. They were so gloomy when their mother died that I hate to cause them to lose their joy. Still, they must have set this one up a long time ago."

Gilrael frowned. "How do you know?"

"Lately, the times have been dark. I've sent them out on missions, and they've been in hardened spirits. Certainly in no mood for pranks. Which," he added, "is partly why I wanted to speak with you."

Gilrael wiped her hands. "What is it?"

Elrond clasped his hands together. "I have arranged a secret council to discuss the fate of Middle Earth. With the discovery of the Ring, dangerous decisions must be made. I'd like you to attend."

Gilrael frowned. "Just elves?"

"No, there will also be men, dwarves, and a hobbit or two. You don't mind, of course."

Gilrael crossed her arms. "I _do_ mind. I don't deal directly with anyone that are not elves. I always work under disguise without them knowing who I really am. I'm sorry, I will not attend."

Elrond frowned. "Gilrael, are you hearing yourself? Are you so selfish that you will not participate in helping to save Middle Earth because of a silly grudge?"

"It is not a _silly_ grudge," she hissed. "I have a very good reason to avoid dwarves if I can help it, and you know it."

Elrond pursed his lips. "Be that as it may, you must realize that your help is needed. No one has travelled as much as you have. No one has as much knowledge and experience as you. You are valuable, Gilrael, and we need you."

The elleth let her arms down, and she sighed. "You won't say my real name, will you?"

"I will call you Gilrael, as always." He suddenly started. "You remember your real name?"

Gilrael pursed her lips. "I…had a dream. But why did my parents hide it? Why did everyone call me Gilrael?"

Elrond shook his head. "It is not the time, Gilrael. You will know when the time is ripe."

Gilrael stared at him. "You know I'm not going to be satisfied with that."

Elrond shrugged. "Try asking Glorfindel and Galadriel and both will give you the same answer. And we three are the only ones who know."

"Even Thranduil and Etrielle and the elders in the Woodland Realm?"

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "They know also, but they would not tell you either. So, will you come to the council? It begins after the noon bell, in the secret platform."

Gilrael turned and began walking back to the buildings. "I'll be there."

* * *

"Here, my friends, is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come here through greater danger or on an errand more urgent."

Frodo stared at the ring with wide eyes. All of them looked intimidating and experienced, unlike him.

There was Strider, dressed in his old traveling clothes. Gloin, and his son Gloin. There was Glorfindel and several other elves of Elrond's household, including Erestor, the master of them. There was Galdor, an elf from the Grey Havens, and Legolas, a strange elf whose piercing blue eyes that followed the hobbit everywhere unnerved Frodo. There was an empty chair next to him. And finally, there was the grand Boromir, a man from the South.

Elrond frowned. "Where is Gilrael?"

He looked to the elves, who all exchanged confused glances.

"I haven't seen her since last night," Legolas informed him.

"Odd, she's rarely late," Glorfindel remarked.

Frodo saw that everyone was greatly disturbed. That Gilrael must have been very important.

Bilbo whispered to him, "Gilrael's the elf that I told you about. She helped us on our quest for Erebor. Mighty powerful, and very nice, though you couldn't tell from looking at her."

Elrond shook his head. "We'll have to begin without her."

He clasped his hands. "Strangers from distance lands, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

The hobbit, who slowly stood, took the ring from his pocket, then set it on the small table. Everyone held their breath in anticipation when suddenly an elf rushed in.

"I apologize for being late, Lord Elrond." It was Gilrael.

She quickly ran to her seat and collapsed down, everyone staring at her for such an untimely arrival.

"Greetings, everyone. I am glad to participate in saving the world with you." It might have been sarcasm.

Elrond cleared his throat. "Thank you for that, Gilrael."

"Your welcome."

Frodo blinked. She certainly didn't appear very dangerous. But as he watched her closer, he detected a certain…feeling about her. He felt a fear that made him want to obey everything she said, and when her gaze landed on his, he nearly shrunk back at the hardened, piercing look in her dark eyes.

"Frodo," the Lord of Rivendell hinted.

The hobbit quickly set the Ring down and sat back down with a sigh of relief.

Everyone stared at the Ring, mesmerized by its invisible power. Its tempting fingers gripped everyone's hearts, and Frodo swallowed. How was anyone supposed to fight a power like this?

* * *

"Really, Gilrael? Really?" Legolas hissed.

She ignored him.

Boromir murmured, "So it is true."

Estel glanced at him with distrust. Out loud, Boromir said, "It is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor." He stood up and walked amongst the people.

"Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people, are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy! Let us use it against him!"

Aragorn sternly said, "You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir turned to face Aragorn with disgust. "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

Unexpectedly, Legolas sprang from his chair. Gilrael widened her eyes and hissed for him to sit down, but he ignored her. "This is no mere ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance and your loyalty and your-"

"Aragorn? So this is Isildur's heir?"

Legolas fiercely announced, "And heir to the throne of Gondor."

Aragorn and Gilrael ordered Legolas at the same time, "Havo dad, Legolas." He did, after one last glare.

"Really, Legolas? Really?" the elleth hissed. He ignored her.

"Gondor has no king," Boromir growled. "Gondor needs no king."

Mithrandir announced, "Aragorn is right. We cannot use it."

Elrond rearranged his robes and stood. "Then you have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

Suddenly, a gruff voice, belonging to none other than Gimli the dwarf, sounded, "Then what are we waiting for?"

Gilrael widened her eyes as Gimli brought down his axe on the Ring, and shards of his axe flew everywhere.

Elrond smiled subtly. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade." Silence. "It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this."

The world spun around Gilrael. No… Mordor…not again…with the Ring…it would be worse.

"Gilrael?" Legolas worriedly asked.

She bent over, clutching her stomach.

 _It's the perfect chance, Gilrael,_ Sauron whispered in her head. _Volunteer to take the Ring. They will listen to you. It will be perfect._

She gasped, but the voice ceased when Boromir started, "One does not simply walk into Mordor." As he continued, she began heaving deep breaths until she could hold it in no longer.

"NO!" Gilrael jumped out of her seat as everyone stared at her.

"Boromir is wrong. Mordor is not like that!"

The man crossed his arms. "You don't know what you're talking about. I've lived on its doorstep for all my life, lady, and I know what it's like."

"But have you been there? Have you lived more than ten, _agonizingly_ long centuries trapped behind those Black Gates, clawing for freedom, and always failing?"

Boromir gaped, and could only stare.

"I don't think so, but I have. So yes, I DO know what I'm talking about when I say that your description of Mordor sounds like paradise to what it actually is."

Elrond cleared his throat. "Is this really necessary-"

"Necessary?!" Gilrael cried. "Of course it is! Before you get it into your heads to march to Mordor with that Ring, you should at least know what you're getting yourself into!"

Everyone watched her, struck silent by her almost hysterical voice.

"Mount Doom is far into Mordor. The likelihood of getting to it is next to none. Its craters and cliffs alone are difficult to climb, not counting the thick darkness that makes it hard to see, and the suffocating poison in the air could kill all but the strongest.

"If you don't include the watchful eye of Sauron himself and the deepest evil the world has ever seen, staring at you and knowing your every move. Boromir is right. You could not do it with ten thousand. This is a mission of secrecy, not war. Perhaps if there were one or two there might be a chance, and I think that is the purpose of this council: to pick one or two to go through hidden paths to Mordor. I mean," she added, "if anyone _wants_ to go."

There was a long moment of silence, during which Frodo looked like he was about to vomit. Strangely enough, it was Legolas who stood up next: to argue with his best friend.

"Difficult or not, it must be done. The Ring must be destroyed!"

To Gilrael's surprise, Gimli the dwarf jumped to his feet. "Oh and I suppose you think you're the one to do it! You two _elves_!"

Boromir stood. "And what if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?!"

Gimli glared. "I will be dead, before I see the Ring in the hands of an _Elf_!" All the elves stood angrily, and it was chaos.

Again, Sauron's voice whispered in her head.

 _Take the Ring now, while everyone is distracted. Use yours to travel in the shadows. They will never find you._

"No," she weakly murmured.

The shouting and yelling and arguing continued, but it was background noise to the enticing, curling voice of the Dark Lord

 _Take it, Gilrael. Take it, my love._

"No," the elleth struggled.

 _Take it._ Gilrael turned away from the Ring, bent over and trying to fight. He was tempting, and deceitful, and she had fallen for his traps once before. Not again. She would _never_ forgive him for what he did to her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her fists, but she was startled as a small voice yet strong rung, "I will take it! I will take it!"

Gilrael turned back, with surprise as everyone fell silent.

Frodo continued, "I will take the Ring into Mordor, t-though I do not know the way."

Suddenly, there was a small shout, and from the bushes a plump hobbit appeared. It was Sam. He rushed next to Frodo, and said, "Mr. Frodo is going nowhere without me."

Elrond smiled. "No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Bilbo sighed wearily. "I wonder whose idea it was to have the council before the noon-day meal. Elves can last on words alone, and dwarves have great endurance, but I'm only a hobbit and I must have my meals at their proper times!"

With that, the council was dismissed.

Gilrael strode with Legolas beside her, shaking her head. "A hobbit? He's not going to make it. The Ring will tear him apart."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Hobbits are stronger than they look. And what would you suggest? To take the Ring yourself?"

"NO!" she violently declared. "That is," she said in a calmer voice, "I suppose there is no perfect option. Still, it will be very dangerous."

Legolas shrugged. "Of course it will be. And you know Elrond won't send off two unprepared hobbits who don't know the way. There will be others."

Gilrael nodded. "Which makes it all the more preposterous. Does everyone really think that a mere _hobbit_ will be able to take the most powerful object in the world right into Sauron's hands?"

"Gilrael-"

"I know, I know. I'm being foolish."

Legolas flushed. "N-no, it's not that."

Gilrael paused and glanced at him suspiciously. "What then?"

The Sinda looked down, and fidgeted nervously.

"Legolas?"

Suddenly, he grabbed her hands and pressed her against a wall in the garden, staring at her intently. "There is a chance that one of us will be chosen to go and the other won't. And that we may never see each other again."

Gilrael blinked as her heart pounded furiously. What was he _doing_? Why was he looking at her like… _that_?

"S-so?"

"I want you to know, before it's too late, that I…love you."

Gilrael glared at him and tried to slip away, but he pressed her closer against the wall and held her arms back. "Please, Gilrael, I need you to hear this."

"Let me go," she growled. "Or I'll have to go myself. You know I can do it."

"And you know I'm not going to let that happen, because I know you're not going to use force, and even if you did, I am in the superior position. You would lose."

Gilrael huffed. "This hardly shows your love."

Legolas bit his lip. "I am not going to let you go until you listen to me."

The elleth sighed. Why was he so stubborn?

"Fine."

The Sinda smiled, but it quickly faded into a look of intense care. "If we were to be separated, forever, I could not live with myself. You give me life, Gilrael, and I always want to be with you. When everyone else thought you were dead, I knew you were still alive. We have such a strong bond, that to cut a thread like ours would be to end both of our happiness."

Gilrael watched him intently. Why did he have to be such a talented speaker? To word his thoughts precisely enough that it left her nothing else to say?

And why was he so good at giving looks, one that she didn't want to disappoint, one that she yearned for - no, she couldn't do it. Not yet. Not until…

"I-I'm sorry, Legolas," she whispered. "I don't know what to say."

Legolas slowly released his hands, and gazed at her with a slight smile. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that I will always be there for you in your darkest hour. And I'm sorry if I have hurt you in some way."

He stepped back, and they stared at each other for a minute. Then Gilrael choked in pain and fled away from the Sinda, her tunic waving farewell to the ellon she left.

 **A/N: Finally, last day of school for the year is _over_! Christmas activities are going to keep me pretty occupied, but I should still probably have lots of free time. So...how do you like it so far? Please don't be shy, I'd love to hear your thoughts! And any constructive feedback you may have. Thank you for reading, and see you in the next chapter! It's going to have a lighter feel to it, more joking and things like that. Hope you enjoy! :)**


	6. Chapter 6: The Fellowship Assembles

Legolas paced the pavilion, the swirling water gushing all around it. Aragorn sat nearby, watching with amusement to his friend's despairs.

"I don't understand, Estel!" the ellon cried for the umpteenth time. "I followed your advice, and now I don't know what to think!"

Aragorn leaned forward. "How did she respond?"

Legolas exhaled. "She barely said a word. But her expression said a lot, and that is what bewilders me."

"What did she look like?"

The Sinda stopped pacing, and gazed out to the lush forests, sinking in the faint voices of singing elves. He spoke like he was in a dream. Not exactly a good one.

"Her eyes were so, so sad, yet so beautiful at the same time. She is like a single white flower blooming on a dark and stormy day, only the clouds never pass. Whenever we speak together, about _us_ , she gets a faraway look, as if she wants something very much but has resigned herself that she cannot get it. It is like two very strong forces pulling her from one side to the next, tearing her apart, and she hardly knows what to do. She never laughs, only occasionally smiles, and she never talks about anything positive. And yet, sometimes I catch a glimpse of her inner self, when her mask falls, and I see a wound as deep as the sea in her heart that I am _sure_ I could mend. But she does not allow me. That wound is one greater than all her other sufferings, one that is causing her the most pain. If I cannot heal her, help her, soon enough, she will bleed to death, Estel. _Death_. And I will slowly fade away after her."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "So, fishing out the poetry, you're saying some catastrophe happened while in captivity, and that's causing her not to be able to enjoy anything? Not even love?"

Legolas exhaled. "Yes. What am I to do? If one of us is chosen to go on the quest, if _Gilrael_ was chosen, I wouldn't be able to _live_ if I find out she dies on the way."

His friend cleared his throat, and tried not to smile from the comical side of things. "You know, it's very unlikely that Elrond will choose her. She'll be like a dark cloud that rests over everyone else, and she'll spread misery to everyone around her."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "You didn't like my poetry and now you're using some?"

Aragorn crossed his arms. "You use too much. I had to really concentrate listening to you."

"Well, what am I to do now?"

Aragorn shook his head. "I never knew Elven romances could be so complicated. I mean, with Arwen it's very clear."

The Sinda sighed. "Lucky. Well, I suppose I'll have to go to the twins."

"The _twins_ are in _no_ mood for romanticadvice," Elladan sternly announced as he and his brother walked up in a huff.

Legolas and Aragorn exchanged glances.

"We just returned from saving the world and you're here despairing about your love problems? Get a life, Legolas."

"That was not necessary, Elrohir," Aragorn muttered.

The twins leaned on each other with their arms crossed.

Legolas cleared his throat. "Well, then what are you two doing here?"

"Ada thought you would take the news better if _we_ sent it," Elladan announced in a monotone voice.

"What news?"

The twins groaned dramatically.

"He wants you to go on the quest to destroy the Ring," Elladan miserably announced.

"And that you're going whether you like it or not," Elrohir finished.

Legolas and Aragorn raised an eyebrow.

"For some reason I don't believe that last part," Legolas declared. "And I don't see why you both are lamenting so much. The quest is dangerous and nearly impossible. Everyone on it might die."

"Exactly!" they cried simultaneously.

"You…want to die?" Aragorn asked with disbelief.

"We never get a chance to do anything dangerous," Elladan began while his brother vigorously nodded. "Ada always says, 'Go patrol' and 'Go find so and so.' He never trusts us with anything."

"You forgot the worst part," Elrohir added. "He's recently added, 'If you don't want to be useful, go find a wife and settle down.' A _wife_ , Legolas! Can you imagine?"

"I can," Aragorn volunteered.

The twins groaned. "How can you do it? Think of the commitment! Always serving _her_. We'll never be able to do anything alone _ever_ again!"

Legolas and Aragorn stared at them.

"Are you sure they're older than you, Legolas?" the man asked.

"I think so," the Sinda replied. "At least, I thought so."

"What about Aclarian, Elrohir? I thought you fell for her."

Elrohir flushed. "I, um, well, she, we, um, decided to, uh, Ada didn't really, um, approve?"

Elladan cleared his throat. "Well, Legolas, are you going on the quest or not?"

The Sinda shook his head, and began walking down the steps. "I'll have to think about it."

"By think about it, he means talk with Gilrael," Aragorn whispered to the twins. They nodded solemnly.

"Everyone knows men can't whisper," Legolas called back. "And no, I'm not going to her."

"I wonder where he's going," the twins whispered to Aragorn.

"To talk with Firlowen," the Sinda muttered under his breath as he decided not all elves could whisper either.

"The only non-crazy friend around here," he added.

* * *

Gilrael crossed her arms. "You know very well what my answer is going to be, Elrond."

The Elf lord nodded. "And you know what my answer is going to be to that."

Gilrael glared at him. "How am I supposed to sacrifice myself when I've already done so? I've endured the worst pain anyone has ever even _imagined_!"

"Well, maybe if you told someone about it they would be able to sympathize and help you," Elrond suggested. "For example Legolas. He's a great friend, and you know he-"

"Is this all a big set-up?!" Gilrael cried. "It's all 'Legolas is awesome' and 'Legolas is a great friend' and Legolas, Legolas, Legolas! I'm not going to put up with it anymore! Maybe if he goes on the quest and I don't would be better for us! Because I can't stand it a minute longer!"

Elrond raised an eyebrow. The last time he had dealt with a problem like this was when Arwen had yelled the same things about Aragorn: and now he couldn't tear them apart.

"Maybe if you cool off-"

"I'm as cool as snow! And I've actually thought about this for a long time and-"

"Have you considered telling someone about your past?" Elrond interrupted. "It'll clear up a lot of things."

Gilrael shook her head. "No, it won't. Everyone will stare at me in shock for about five seconds, then they will drive me out of Middle Earth, and into the Sea, where I will be forever destroyed and all the world will be rid of me. So no, I'm not going to tell someone. At least until I'm ready to die a painful death."

Elrond pursed his lips. What was he to do? Her case was surely a unique one…and Galadriel had already informed him that Gilrael's past was shadowed with powerful dark magic.

"I suppose I can't force you," he finally said.

Gilrael nodded sadly. "I don't know why it's all coming out now. I used to be able to hide it perfectly well."

Elrond shifted his robes. "I think…that the quest would be a very good antidote. Clearly the discovery of the Ring is having something to do with it. Maybe if you help destroy it then you will have an easier start."

Gilrael's eyes slowly moved up to him. "I haven't…thought about it like that."

"So, will you go?"

"Is Legolas going?"

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with him."

Gilrael exhaled. "I suppose I'll…give him another chance."

Elrond smiled. "That's very good of you."

* * *

"…and the twins and Estel were not helpful, so I thought you might have some advice."

Firlowen raised an eyebrow. "Well, um, Legolas, this is really quite an important decision, you know? I suggest you go practice some archery to, uh, clear your mind."

The Sinda lit up. "That's a brilliant idea, Firlowen. Very inspirational. Thank you!"

He hurried off while Firlowen shook his head with a smile. Glad the king wasn't there.

Suddenly, Firlowen leaped to his feet. "Oh, uh, Legolas?! Did you tell everyone about Gollum's escape?"

No answer.

"Oh, no."

* * *

Gilrael watched through the bushes her friend fire arrow after arrow to the targets spread all around the field, nailing the centre every time, and often splitting the arrow with a next one. His face was calm and collected, his aim precise, and his fingers in just the right place to ensure a perfect shot. He was the quintessence of an archer.

And yet, she knew something disturbed him. His eyes were not steady, but often drooped down as he exhaled wearily. There was a decision he had to make, and Gilrael was quite certain she knew what it was.

As Legolas drew an arrow back and held his bow up, Gilrael stepped next to him and lowered the bow. He glanced at her in surprise, and she smiled. "We're both going. And…I'm sorry if I gave you a…bad attitude…earlier."

Legolas smiled widely, leaned over and kissed her on her head. "All is forgotten, Ilweranael," he murmured through her hair.

The elleth took a step back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You messed up my hair," she muttered as her cheeks went red. But she wasn't entirely displeased.

* * *

The Half-elven siblings, Firlowen, Legolas, and Gilrael gathered together to say good-bye.

"Where is Aragorn?" Arwen asked. "He was supposed to be here."

"Ah, don't worry," her brothers assured her as they clapped their hands on either side of her shoulders. "He's just stressing out, nothing much."

Firlowen hesitantly announced, "I, um, told Mithrandir about Gollum's escape."

Legolas and Gilrael exchanged surprised glances.

"I totally forgot!"

"Oh no! What did he say?"

The messenger grinned. "He said it couldn't have been helped, and for you two not to call him Mithrandir during the quest. You are to call him Gandalf."

"What an absurd name," the twins muttered.

Firlowen shrugged. "Well, he wanted everyone to stay united. I'll miss you both."

"We won't," the twins cheerily announced.

Arwen glared at them. "Don't be selfish."

She turned and hugged Gilrael. "Take care of Aragorn for me, okay? He gets a bit reckless when he's stressed. And I know this is a lot of responsibility for him."

Gilrael nodded. "I'll watch him."

"You too, Legolas." Arwen smiled. "He listens to you."

Elladan cleared his throat. "We, um, will actually miss you two."

"And, we'll, you know, be here if you ever need anything," Elrohir added.

Gilrael and Legolas smiled. "That's very thoughtful of you two."

Suddenly, a horn blew. "It is time."

* * *

Elrond clasped his hands together. "Nine companions and one shadow. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring. And you really must cheer up, Gilrael."

The elleth stood in the back of the group, her face set in a permanent glare. "Why are we standing like this? Are we getting our portraits painted?" she muttered.

They were all lined up, shortest to tallest. There was Frodo and Sam, their friends Merry and Pippin, and Gimli in the front, and Boromir, Aragorn, Mithrandir, and Legolas in the back.

Elrond cleared his throat. "None of you are obliged to stay together the whole time. If there comes a situation where you feel you cannot stay, you have full right to leave."

"Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens," Gimli growled. "I don't think a single one of us stubborn folk are going to drop out."

Elrond blinked. "Well, then, that's good. The road will be long and dangerous, but with Gandalf to guide you and Aragorn to lead you-"

"And Gilrael to bring down our spirits," Boromir muttered.

"-I am sure this quest will be successful. Farewell, you all! And may Iluvatar guide you!"

They all turned around as Frodo slowly led the way out, but just before they left, Glorfindel laid a hand on Gilrael's arm.

"Gilrael, be careful," he whispered. "Don't let me watch you walk off to your death again."

She nodded solemnly. "I'll come back this time, Glorfindel. I _will_."

And that was the last time she saw the fair valley in a long, long time.


	7. Chapter 7: Everything goes South

"Is she always like that?" Boromir whispered to Aragorn.

He shook his head. "She's been getting worse. She barely even lets Legolas speak to her."

Gilrael marched far ahead of Gandalf, who 'led' the way, and seemed to be always glaring and muttering curses to herself.

Aragorn pursed his lips. "I wish there was something we could do about it."

Suddenly, Frodo cleared his throat. "I-I'm going to go on ahead to, um, talk with her."

Sam frowned. "But you know she doesn't talk with anyone, right Mr. Frodo?"

"She'll talk with me," the hobbit growled. With that, he stumbled ahead as everyone halted with surprise to watch.

Gilrael turned as Frodo stopped behind her. "I…need your help," he managed. "The Ring…it's too heavy."

He looked up with miserable eyes, and to his surprise she knelt in front of him, touching the Ring which hung on a chain around his neck.

"I know," she murmured. "I know. Such a strange fate for a hobbit, to carry such a heavy burden."

Frodo shrunk back when she kept on stroking it and staring at it, but she looked him hard in the eye. "The Ring has no hold over me, Frodo. You must take care that it does not overtake you."

The hobbit nodded, suddenly fearing the elf in front of him. Her cold eyes seemed to see through his very soul, an icy look of…evil. Then it passed.

"You need my help," she murmured, rather to herself. Then out loud, she cleared her throat. "I'm afraid there is not much I can do to help you. This burden you alone must carry. I cannot do it for you. But that does not mean I cannot sympathize with you. I know how it feels, Frodo, and I will help you fight it. Come, will we walk together?"

She offered a hand as she stood, and Frodo managed a smile. His weary, drawn face regained some colour, and he took the hand which gripped so warmly and firmly to his. Gilrael may appear frightening, but he realized he knew what she was feeling on the inside. Especially when he caught a glimpse of _her_ ring.

* * *

Tauriel dipped her head graciously. "Thank you for everything, but I really must be leaving."

Nuileth raised an eyebrow. "Where will you go? To find Legolas?"

Tauriel frowned. "Do you know him?"

The Sindarin elf snorted. "Know him? Almost every elleth whose beauty is above average and has an ounce of skill in archery knows him. And I thought I was the only one."

Tauriel widened her eyes. "You mean he…actually _did_ it-"

"No, he never went that far with anyone," Nuileth quickly corrected. "He was always very princely and proper with his manners. But he never stayed for long with anyone. Until me. He even lived here in Lorien for a year or so, and I thought he was the one for me, until he suddenly got a strange idea into his head and left me. Left me broken."

Tauriel pursed her lips. "I'm so sorry. I-If it's not too rude, what was the strange idea?"

Nuileth shook her head. "He thought Il-that is, Gilrael was still alive. And he chose that little sliver of a hope over me, willing to risk the fact that she actually _was_ dead. The only problem is that he was right, and now…"

Nuileth bit her lip. "I feel used. I _love_ him, Tauriel, but there's no chance of his returning it. His head is always in the clouds when it comes to Gilrael, with not a chance of bringing it down."

Tauriel slid her bag to the ground, knowing she ought to spend some more time there. She patted Nuileth's shoulder. "I don't know very much about these things, but if you really love him, you would want the best for him. Who _he_ chooses."

"But Gilrael is hardly good for him!" Nuileth protested. "She's a monster, and he doesn't see that! Her dark, desolate soul is just the opposite of his pure, joyful one, and she'll bring him down to the depths of her misery! I couldn't stand seeing dear Legolas like her!"

Tauriel shook her head. "I would give Gilrael a chance, Nuileth. You don't know her. She's been through a lot of things, and I think it's a miracle of how far she's gone from when she first arrived at the palace. Give her a chance, Nuileth."

"I don't want to," the Sinda muttered. "I want to kill her."

* * *

It had a black band, with a silver dragon on the front. In its mouth was a shining ruby.

"Does it have powers?" Frodo asked her.

Gilrael pursed her lips. "More than I care for."

"Can't you take it off?"

The Elf shook her head. "I wish. I've tried so many times, but it never budges. The only way to get it off, to heal my pain, is to destroy that Ring."

Frodo glanced down at it. The Ring was simple, just a golden band, but how powerful! And how dangerous!

"I'm sorry, Gilrael," he suddenly announced.

The Elf peered down at him. "What for?"

"That you had to suffer so much. I can barely stand to carry the Ring for a month, but no doubt you had to carry yours for years."

"Centuries," she agreed. "It _is_ mighty difficult. But I feel like it is perfectly normal. I don't remember any time in my life where I never felt some sort of deep pain."

Frodo gazed up at her with sorrowful eyes. "That's so sad."

Gilrael smiled sadly, patting his shoulder. "Well, it's our fate, I suppose. We must carry it out. Ah, the others are calling us to stop for the night. Let's go back."

During supper, as always, Gilrael sat at the back, hidden in the shadows, while Legolas sat perched in a tree. The rest always had a merry time, laughing and eating and smoking. But that night, Boromir joined the elleth.

"You always sit alone," he observed.

"I prefer it that way," she curtly replied. Unfortunately, he didn't get the hint.

"What do you think about this whole business? This 'destroy the Ring' thing?"

Gilrael glanced at him warily. "I think it's a good idea but hard to execute. You have different views."

Boromir nodded. "I think it's such a waste that so much power should be destroyed."

Gilrael narrowed her eyes. "Really."

Boromir stared at her, almost hungrily. "You could take it. Frodo trusts you. And you wouldn't have to deal with it. I would bring it home."

Gilrael stood. "Don't wish for something that you don't know the limits of, Boromir son of Denethor."

As she was about to leave, the man leaped up and grabbed her arm. "Gilrael, get the Ring and run away with me to Gondor."

He promptly ended up on the ground with a broken nose.

* * *

"What did Boromir do?" Frodo asked as they continued marching the next day.

Gilrael snorted. "He ought to take a year or two in Thranduil's halls to teach him proper manners. And he ought to spend the same amount of time as a captive in Mordor to teach him the powers of darkness."

Frodo shook his head. "He's really a kind man. But greedy, I suppose. You know you broke his nose."

"Serves him right," Gilrael declared. "But it's nothing that Est-Aragorn couldn't fix."

"Do you know him? Aragorn?"

Gilrael nodded. "By a different name, no surprise. But yes. I saved his life when he was just a little one."

Frodo smiled. "I wish I could be like that. A warrior, able to save people's lives."

"Be careful what you wish for," she warned. "With the ability to save lives comes the ability to take them. One must be wise to discern which to save and which to kill."

* * *

One morning, the Fellowship came to rest on a hill, where Legolas approached Gilrael, who was scouting.

"Gilrael, I need to speak with you."

"I'm busy."

"Gilrael."

The elleth sighed, and glanced at him, annoyed. "What?"

The prince jumped on a boulder next to her. "You haven't spoken to me in weeks."

"So? Are you all that matters?"

Legolas looked hurt. "I thought I was your friend."

"You think many things, Legolas, but you fail to consider others."

The prince hardened his face. "Well if that's how you feel, Gilrael, I'll leave you alone."

He turned, and Gilrael swallowed. She cared for him, she really did, and that's why she distanced herself. To protect him from her dark secret.

Suddenly, she jumped, startled, as Legolas suddenly cried, "Crebain, from Dunland!"

"Hide!" Aragorn yelled.

"You're a terrible scout, Gilrael!" Gandalf scolded as everyone rushed to put out the fire and hide under brush and stone cliffs.

When the evil birds passed, everyone stood up uneasily. Gandalf grudgingly said, "Spies of Saruman. Our passage south is being watched. We must take the paths of Caradhas!"

Gilrael widened her eyes. "Mith-I mean, Gandalf! The hobbits will freeze in the bitter cold!"

Gandalf looked at her. "It is either that, or Moria. And I know you know what is in Moria."

Gimli frowned. "Well, if we're voting, I say Moria! My cousin Balin will give us a royal welcome! What's there to fear?"

"Darkness and death," murmured Gilrael.

"What a beam of joy," Pippin observed. "In any case, I've been looking forward to snow."

"Shut up, Pip," Merry muttered. "The blizzards are going to change your mind."

 **A/N: Thank you all for reading and for all of your support! Hope my little tale has captured some of your attention. I'll be out of town for about a week, so I might not be able to update during that time. Then when I get back school will be cracking, and it might be a bit crazy. But don't worry! I'll post the next chapter as soon as I write it.**

 **Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all!**


	8. Chapter 8: Icy Struggles

As the Fellowship climbed the slopes of Caradhas, not even Pippin was able to keep up a cheery spirit. It was hard going, wading through the thickness of chilling snow that didn't seem to want to give in. The Elves were dealing more with emotional pain than physical, and it was all Gandalf could do to lead them on as best as possible.

"Hurry now, we don't have much time. The gates over the mountain will be inaccessible when the blizzard blows by. We must make haste!"

"Well, then, why don't we stop this and head to the Gap of Rohan instead?" Boromir suggested. "They will welcome us warmly."

"And, if I may put in my advice," Gimli advised, "we should go to Moria where my _cousin_ will welcome us warmly. I'm dying from the cold!"

"It's either cold or flames," Gilrael murmured. "If we go to Moria, it will be flames. If we continue here, cold."

"What about the Gap?" Boromir asked.

Gilrael shook her head. "We'll die before we get there. So really, we're all going to die."

"Gilrael!" Gandalf snapped. "You're a grown elf, for Arda's sake. Keep your thoughts to yourself."

"That's why I always travel alone," Gilrael muttered.

Aragorn cleared his throat, and whispered into Legolas' ear. "I think you should…talk with her."

The ellon crossed his arms. "I could hear you perfectly well even if you didn't whisper into my ear. And no, I'm not talking with her. She hates me. She never wants to be near me ever again. She thinks I'm being a dwarf."

"Hey! I can understand 'Nauga' you know!"

"She thinks I'm arrogant and unkind. And you know what, Estel? If she's going to be like that, I don't want to talk to her either. She's being unfair and illogical."

"You know I can hear you, right?"

Legolas nodded curtly, and strode ahead, in front of Gandalf. "Exactly. Now, Mithrandir – sorry, Gandalf – I'm going to find the sun and bring it back to warm up these mortals. It must be around here somewhere."

And with that, the elf took off into a slowly building up whirl of fog, and disappeared beyond the curtain of white.

"Glad to be rid of him," Gimli remarked. "Elves are always bragging about how they can walk on top of snow."

"I wish I could," Pippin wistfully said. "It's hard enough with snow all around you."

Boromir continued cutting out a path through the snow. "Well, you'd better get used to it. It'll only get worse."

Gilrael glanced down at Frodo, who was looking sicker by the minute. She leaned forward and touched his shoulder.

"Doing alright, Frodo?"

The hobbit shivered. "A-Aragorn's keeping me quite warm, thank you. But I don't know how much longer I'll be able to walk."

He stumbled, and the Ranger behind him caught his waist. "Easy, Frodo. We'll take a short break, and hopefully Legolas will bring the sun back by then." He gazed up at the sunless sky, growing darker by the minute. "We really need it."

* * *

Tauriel trudged through the northern wilderness, counting all her problems on her fingers. First, she needed to find her mother, a needle in a haystack. Next, she needed to find Legolas, also a needle in a haystack. Third, she needed to find out how to help Nuileth, her new friend, which was only possible by finding both Legolas and Gilrael, which was a needle in two haystacks. And she had no idea where to start.

Maybe Imladris? Nuileth said they were headed that way. But they would be gone ages ago. What was she to do?

Suddenly, a rider on a brown horse rode up to her. Tauriel frowned, and slowed her horse as she drew her hood.

"What brings you to these lands?" the stranger called in perfect Sindarin.

Tauriel stared at him warily. "Who's asking?"

"They call me Roquen. And you are?"

The elleth tried not to show any signs of surprise at discovering that this was the Elf that Gilrael had warned her about, Sauron's most loyal and valuable servant that had been in captivity with Gilrael and hadn't turned away from his corruption.

"I'm Luiniel. And I'm on a mission for the King of the Woodland Realm. What brings _you_ -"

"A mission?" he interrupted. "Strange, I recall that Thranduil gave the orders that no one is to leave the kingdom. You know, with the upcoming battle and all."

Tauriel frowned. "How is that your business? And what's this about a battle?"

Roquen laughed, and his horse slowly approached her. Tauriel shivered as she felt the presence of evil slowly wrapping around her.

"Don't try to lie, Tauriel," he ordered smoothly. "I know many things. For example, where your mother is."

Tauriel widened her eyes. "M-my mother? You know?"

Roquen smiled, and started circling her. "I feel a deal coming on. How does this sound. You follow my orders, I tell you where your mother is."

Tauriel raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. Even if I did follow your orders, I don't want to know _where_ my mother is. I want you to _give_ me my mother."

Roquen shrugged. "That can be arranged. The price, of course, will be higher. You want to hear it?"

Tauriel pursed her lips, hesitating. This was, after all, a corrupted Elf, perhaps as powerful as Gilrael once was when she worked for the enemy. He couldn't be trusted. But her mother…she needed to find her.

"I'll…listen."

Roquen grinned. "Excellent. It's simple, really. You get the Ring, I give you your mother."

Tauriel snorted. "The Ring? Right. No, sorry, that's not going to happen."

"It's not what you think," Roquen coolly responded. "I'm not actually evil."

"And I'm not actually an Elf."

The ellon laughed. "You have fire. That's good. Now, as I was saying, I'm working under disguise for Sauron. Hopefully I can tear him down from the inside. The only way to do that is to destroy the Ring. I can dump it into Mount Doom with no problem, since no one will suspect anything. The only difficulty I have now is that I have no idea where the Ring is."

Tauriel crossed her arms. "And you think _I_ do?"

Roquen shook his head. "But you'll have a better chance at getting it than I will. I don't want Sauron to suspect me, and Gilrael thinks I'm evil. She won't let me get anywhere near the Ring."

Tauriel nodded. "Exactly. You're evil. You're lying. I don't trust you."

Roquen raised an eyebrow. "Who told you?"

"Gilrael. She said you're deceitful and not to be trusted."

Roquen laughed. "Ah, yes, she plays her part well. Keeps Sauron out of our plan."

Tauriel glared at him. "She wouldn't lie to me."

"Would she? You have to remember, Tauriel, she's been on the side of darkness for a millennium since she was an elfling. Totally corrupted. I don't think she could recover fully from that anytime soon. Lying is probably still a breeze."

"But Legolas-"

"Legolas!" Roquen's eyes blazed like fire. "Curse his soul! I hate his very blood! I wish I could kill him and that he would die a slow and painful death!"

Tauriel nodded triumphantly. "That ends it then. I know _one hundred percent_ that Legolas is trustworthy, which means that you are not."

Roquen shook his head. "Oh, no, it's not that. I hate him because he stole my wife from me."

Tauriel gasped. "Gilrael's _married_? To _you_?"

Roquen pursed his lips bitterly. "I wish. But _Legolas_ took her before we could, and I haven't seen her since. Hope she misses me."

Then Tauriel recalled all of Gilrael's strange behaviour around the Sinda, and it dawned on her why. She always looked guilty around Legolas, maybe when they held hands or hugged. The reason was because she really loved Roquen. Not Legolas. Which meant that she had lied when she said Roquen was a horrible Elf not to be trusted. Maybe she didn't want that secret to get out.

Tauriel swallowed. Gilrael had lied! What was she to do now? Trust this Elf?

"I-I don't know what to do."

Roquen exhaled. "Look, I know this is a very difficult decision for you, but you must trust me. If you can get the Ring to me so I can destroy it, less lives will be lost. You will get your mother back. And I might even be able to arrange a boat for you two to sail to Valinor."

Tauriel sucked in a breath. "Valinor! I haven't thought of it!"

Roquen raised an eyebrow. "But you surely must want to sail West. All Elves have the yearning of the sea."

Tauriel sighed wistfully. "If I can get my mother back, I think I'd like to sail back with her. With Legolas and Gilrael and the others, and you too."

"Well?" Roquen pressed. "Will you find the Ring?"

Tauriel nodded. "I'll do whatever you ask. Yes, I'll look for it."

"Do you swear that you'll follow my orders?"

The elleth frowned, a bit puzzled. "Well, alright, but I don't see the necessity. I never break my word."

Roquen smiled. "That's noble of you. Your first task is to head to the Anduin River and seek out a creature called Gollum."

Tauriel gasped. "Gollum! Mithrandir was looking for him. The description was horrendous."

The ellon shrugged. "I suppose so. But that creature will do everything necessary to get the Ring back – you know his story? Good. – since he is so far under its influence. If you can find him, there's a much higher chance of finding the Ring. Last I heard, he was just outside of Lorien, along the banks of the Anduin."

Tauriel frowned. "But that is so far away from here! It will take weeks, maybe months!"

Roquen bit his lip. "I'm afraid there is no other choice. Just hurry along as quickly as possible."

"What are you going to do?"

The ellon twirled his great stallion around, away from the setting sun. "Head to the South. Great events are emerging. The enemy is moving swiftly, in secret, and I need to get to the bottom of it. Stay safe, Tauriel, and remember your oath. If anyone or anything comes to you with a note from me, you must obey."

And with that strange farewell, Roquen dashed off, and with his fast stead, soon disappeared beyond the horizon.

* * *

Gilrael watched as Legolas returned empty handed, but gravely announced that an ocean of black storm clouds was moving swiftly towards them. Sure enough, it was only a few moments later when the blizzard arrived, striking the fire out of everyone's hearts. The wind howled, the mountains shook, and it seemed like it would never end.

"Could this be any worse?" Boromir wailed.

Gilrael widened her eyes at the fiercely blowing wind.. No. No, no, no.

"There is a foul voice in the air," the innocently unaware rock of an ellon announced.

Gilrael groaned on the inside. It couldn't be, but it was…

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried.

A chunk of snow toppled from above, and the darkness was so great that they had just enough time to pin themselves to the wall.

Aragorn yelled, "He is trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!"

Gandalf held up his staff and chanted a counter spell, but it didn't work. The world started to spin, and slowly caved into darkness. Gilrael screamed. She'd felt that before. Felt the cold, the stinging wind, the evil chants of destruction…and she screamed louder and longer, clawing at nowhere in particular to get herself out. She couldn't let it happen again!

* * *

"Watch out!" Legolas yelled as a strike of lightening hit the top of the mountain. Everyone gasped as a snowy boulder sailed down, and they pressed themselves to the wall again. All but Gilrael.

"Gilrael!"

But she couldn't hear. Legolas was stricken with horror as he saw her screaming and wailing, a cry of agony and death. He sprang out and pulled her back just as the boulder landed and tumbled down the mountainside. She was crying so mournfully, it cut his heart. And all quarrelling between them was forgotten.

As Gandalf and Aragorn consulted the Fellowship and decided what to do, Gilrael pressed her head deep into Legolas' chest, holding on as if he was the only thing she had left.

"Save me, Legolas," she whimpered. "Don't let it happen again to any of us."

The Sinda couldn't understand, but he _did_ know that this was where she belonged. Resting in his arms, her head on his chest, her lithe body pressed against his, protected from the wind and snow by his very own self. She was trusting him. Trusting him to save her. And he didn't want to ever let go.

But suddenly, Gilrael screamed again, and buried her head into Legolas' neck. "No, no, no! Not Moria! Not again! Don't let them take me there, Legolas! NO!"

Aragorn stared at him. "Um…what? What's happening, Legolas?"

"She's panicking," Pippin astutely observed. "I think there's something bad down there that she's afraid of."

Gimli snorted. "I thought the Elves are supposed to be all strong and courageous. And here she is melting in a puddle of cowardice."

"Gimli!" Gandalf snapped. "Don't make remarks before you know the full story! And you, Pippin, help Merry and Sam to get some life back into Frodo. You, Legolas, get Gilrael back to her usually sane self. And you two men, make yourselves productive and shield the small ones from the wind! Then, since Frodo has chosen, we will go on."

The Sinda hugged Gilrael tighter to him. He'd been yearning to do it for centuries, have her body close to his without her pulling back with a look of guilt. But this time, she was stricken with fear.

"Shh, Gilrael, it'll be alright. Shh."

He stroked her hair, and she shivered. "No, he'll do it again! He'll take our lives!"

"Shh, Gilrael. I'm here this time. I won't let any lives be taken."

"He said the same thing!" she shrieked. "He said no one would die, but look what he did!"

"Gilrael, I'm _Legolas_ ," he gently reminded her as he threaded his fingers through her hair. "Legolas. I'll take care of you. Shh." He used the same voice that he had used once for an injured deer, and it seemed to work. She slowly calmed down, and he gently kissed her head.

"Shh, my dear one. May the light of the Eldar shine through all the darkness in your mind. May you be released from your pain."

He kissed her head again, more fervently this time. "May you become the elleth you once were, with no troubles or sorrows."

Legolas leaned forward, and gently planted his lips on her neck, and exhaled slowly. "Do you hear me, Gilrael?" The Sinda cupped her face in his hands, and stared into her beautiful, large brown eyes.

Gilrael squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her head on his chest. "I wish, I wish I could, I wish I could do this." A tear rolled down her face. "Please stop, Legolas. I know you're trying to help, b-but it makes it harder for me."

The prince frowned as she stepped back from him. "Harder for what, Gilrael?"

She swallowed, and she wiped away tears from her eyes. "Harder for me to reject you."

Legolas stared at her, utterly lost and confused. What she said made no sense. There she was, the most heartbroken person he had ever seen, rejecting him?

"Let it rest, Legolas," Aragorn advised. "It's good that she's back to normal now. See? She's fine with going to Moria now."

Legolas crossed his arms bitterly. "So all I'm good for is to be an attractive ellon for her to cry on and get her back on her feet. That's all this Fellowship needs, is it? For me to 'fix Gilrael'? What if, what if…"

"Life cannot be about what ifs, Legolas," Aragorn gently told him. "You must focus on what is now, what is real and known. Let's just get to Moria first and we'll deal with what comes next then, alright?"

Legolas shot him a grateful look. "You know the good thing about men? They're very practical. They don't have much time in the world, so they make good use of it. Thank you, Aragorn."

"The hobbits are freezing!" Boromir cried. "Are you going to stand there talking while we die of cold and Saruman brings down this mountain?"

Gandalf held aloft his lit staff. "Let's go. Aragorn, bring up the rear. I need Gimli and Gilrael up front."

And that was the start of the replayed scene which had once, many centuries ago, ripped apart Gilrael's soul forever.

 **A/N: I'm back! And the internet is back too! So finally, I'm able to post this chapter. I had time to write during my time off, but from now on writing time might be a bit rare. Still, please stick with me! I'll never discontinue.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I'd really appreciate a review on your thoughts! :)**

 **Have a wonderful day!**


	9. Chapter 9: Malicious Mines of Moria

It was just as she remembered. Dark, gloomy, desolate. A thin fog of mist settled on the small lake pooling beneath the black walls of the mine that led into Moria. Only this time, it was going to serve as the entrance. Not the exit.

Gimli gasped in amazement when he saw it. "The walls of Moria!"

As they approached the invisible dwarf door, Gimli informed everyone, "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. Even their own masters cannot find them, if their secrets are forgotten!"

Legolas snorted. "Why am I not surprised?"

But the moon came out and shined its light on the door, and it glowed brightly, the dwarvish and elvish lettering shining in silver.

As Gandalf tried to open the door, with negative results, Gilrael stood on some rocks, her back leaning against the thin trunk of a tree. She gazed out into the dark expanse of water, her heart uneasy. Was the monster still there? It must be, if none had slayed it.

Scenes of flailing tentacles and slimy teeth flashed through her mind, and she sucked in a quick, startled breath when she heard a kerplunk of a rock landing in the water.

Aragorn grabbed the hobbits' arms, hissing, "Do not stir the water!" The Ranger had the sense, but he could not know. The sense of anxiety slowly bubbled up in Gilrael's heart, rising rapidly as Frodo figured out the riddle and the doors creaked open.

The Fellowship walked inside the dark hall, but Gilrael stood at the rear, next to Frodo, peering out at the dark waters as her heart thudded.

"…enjoy the favor and hospitality of the dwarves!"

Her apprehension grew.

"Roaring fires, molt beer, ripe meat off the bone!"

The waters started to ripple, and Gilrael's eyes widened.

"This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a mine, a mine!"

"Run," she whispered. No one heard her but Legolas, who shot her a questioning glance.

Boromir looked around as Gandalf lit his staff. "This is no mine! It's a tomb." On the ground, bones were scattered about. The hobbits were terrified. Gimli began wailing.

Everyone drew their weapons, as Boromir cried, "We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here!"

The dark feeling of a creeping evil exploded, and Gilrael yelled, "RUN!"

But it was too late. A black and slimy tentacle had grabbed Frodo's ankle, drawing him back outside the mine. The hobbits screamed for help while they took out their little swords and hacked at the tentacles. Aragorn and Boromir quickly joined them. Then hundreds of little tentacles reached out, and grabbed Frodo. He was screaming and yelling as he was carried above the water.

Gilrael had an arrow nocked, but she couldn't find a good shot. She was a swordsman, not an archer. Legolas, on the other hand, found plenty, but every hit of his seemed to spark more fury into the beast.

Aragorn and Boromir slashed and hacked at the tentacles, wading into the water to try to reach Frodo. Legolas fired arrow after arrow while the hobbits screamed and Gandalf watched in terror.

Gilrael stood stock still, staring at the monster. There was only one thing she could do.

She stood tall and straight, her eyes boring into the water where the head must rest. Then she began whispering the words of the…curse. The very same one that had drawn _her_ out so many centuries ago.

Within a few seconds, the monster suddenly lifted its huge, ugly head, bellowing in pain. Gilrael knew what it felt like, a sharp pull of fiery pain on the head, and it felt sickening to continue, but she kept on whispering. _For Frodo_ , she thought.

This new position gave Aragorn the chance to sprint underneath Frodo and slice the tentacles, making Frodo drop into his arms.

Gandalf yelled, "Into the mines!"

As everyone fled inside, Legolas swiftly fired two arrows into the horrid eyes of the best. It roared in anger and pain, and reached forward with all of its tentacles and all of its strength.

Gilrael stopped the spell, and retreated with the Fellowship deep into the mines, out of reach of the creature, which pulled down rocks that sealed the entrance shut.

Then they were in utter darkness.

Gandalf quickly lit his staff, and grimly announced, "We have now but one choice. We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the earth."

Gilrael suddenly made a sound, a sound of hurt and guilt. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept on whispering.

Everyone exchanged puzzled looks, but she quickly straightened and cleared her throat.

"If you need my guidance, Gandalf, just ask me. I know these halls better than I know the halls of the Woodland Realm."

They continued walking in the dark. Gilrael shuddered. She knew exactly what was hiding in the mines, and wasn't eager to approach it. Yes, she could see perfectly, but the things she saw were bones stained with dried blood, and weapons everywhere.

Legolas walked next to her. "Gilrael? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied curtly. "I can see perfectly."

Legolas blinked. "You can?"

Gilrael frowned. "You cannot?"

"I can see quite well, but not perfectly."

Gilrael bit her lip. "I-I suppose I am still used to the dark, darker than this. Please, do not remind me. Come, Mithrandir beckons to us."

Gandalf muttered, "It is a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

The journey was long and tiring. The others in the Fellowship were not used to such long periods of time without sunlight, especially Legolas, who lived on light, but Gilrael had become so accustomed to the dark that she did not feel the suffocating affects her fellow Elf did.

As they continued on, Gilrael saw ancient signs of her time in captivity. In one hallway was a small hole in the wall, not noticeable unless you knew it was there.

"I used to hide here," Gilrael murmured. "Hide from Azog, or one of the other cruel orc generals."

In another tunnel was a dark opening. "That leads to an underground stream with bitter but drinkable water," Gilrael whispered. "It took me ages to find it."

And, in a tiny nook in the wall, she suddenly stopped short. From behind, Aragorn peered into it. "What is it?"

Gilrael widened her eyes. "It's still here…"

She drew out a key, dusty and black. "After all these times!"

Gilrael sprinted forward, in front of Gandalf, and disappeared behind the corner. Legolas took after her.

But she didn't go far. There, in a side passageway off the main tunnel, was a stone door, open at the turn of the key. Inside was dark, but Gandalf waved his staff over it.

The room was dusty, covered in webs, and contained no furnishings but a single wooden chest, which was swiftly opened by the elleth. The hobbits watched over her shoulder as she lifted the lid.

"They're all there…" she murmured.

"What?" Boromir asked from the rear.

"Books," Sam answered with awe. "Volumes and volumes. Why, Mr. Frodo, only one of them has taken your uncle years!"

The Ring-bearer nodded slightly. "What are they about?"

Gilrael pulled one out, ripped and stained with blood. "My imprisonment," she responded solemnly. "My pains and trials. Tortures and fears. This one, though, has a very useful map of Moria."

She gently edged the paper out, and under the light of Gandalf's staff, they could see the most detailed map of the mines that even Gimli had ever seen.

"It goes so deep!" the dwarf exclaimed. "So many tunnels and chambers!"

Gilrael closed the lid and stood, keeping the map and a small booklet which, Legolas noticed, she stuffed discreetly inside her kirtle.

"Which we must travel through swiftly if we are to make it out of here alive." Gilrael handed the map to Gandalf. "You might find it useful. Now, we really must get going."

The Fellowship walked on in silence, for the exception of Gimli who uttered insensible groanings and moans occasionally. Frodo looked increasingly pale, while Sam tried to cheer up him. Merry and Pippin whispered to each other, but both seemed apprehensive. Boromir was serious and determined, while Aragorn was grim and quiet, as usual. Legolas was unreadable, and Gandalf was the only cheery one.

As for Gilrael, every step brought back that painful memory bit by bit, uncovering the deep wound that she had tried so hard to cover. Every hallway, passage, tunnel sparked a deeper sense of dread, and it took all her willpower not to collapse under the pressure.

Still, from behind Aragorn had to instinctively catch her arm to prevent her from falling flat on her face.

"Gilrael! Are you alright?"

The Fellowship halted and turned to see as she panted heavily, her face significantly paler than usual.

"I-I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Legolas announced as he grasped both her arms and pulled her to her feet. "I know what's bothering you, Gilrael, and I happen to know how to fix it, if you will let me."

Gilrael was too exhausted from the pain to draw away from him, and the best she could do was lower her eyes from his extremely endearing ones.

"Ilweranael, let me in," he urged her in Sindarin. "You cannot fight it alone. You must allow me to help when you are too weak to do it yourself."

"You don't understand," she exhaled wearily. "If you help, it will make it worse."

"Ilweranael, please!"

Oh, those pleading blue eyes. And the name…her _real_ one. Tiny bits and pieces of her childhood sparked in the back of her mind. She heard the laughter of elflings, the call, "Ilweranael! Let's play a game!" Visions of peace and joy without any sorrows or trials.

Why did Legolas have to be so persuasive?

Slowly, Gilrael managed to look him in the eye. "I'm not sure I can."

Legolas smiled, one that always made her heart melt and make her hate _the other one_ even more. "But at least you want me to, and that's a start. Come, take my hand, and we will walk together."

Her eyes fluttered uncertainly, but he left her no choice. Taking her hand into his, he gently pulled her forward. "Come. Let's play a game. I think of one happy memory, and you think of another that I haven't thought of."

Legolas' tone was so coaxing, his words so convincing, that Gilrael gradually accepted as the Fellowship continued on their way. She had a hope that maybe, just maybe, she could keep her secret safe _and_ overcome it. But deep down, Gilrael knew it was impossible.

* * *

The Fellowship passed through an expansive hall of great columns and splendour. A small door was in the back of the hall, which Gimli rushed forward to, causing the rest of the Fellowship to run after him.

In the room was a white coffin, the resting place of Gimli's cousin Balin. Bones and skeletons were also scattered throughout the room. Gimli wailed and groaned some more, while Gilrael looked about the melancholy place.

 _Something isn't right,_ she thought. It was a feeling of urgency, that they needed to get out of there quickly. _But surely the goblin colony had left ages ago…_

"We cannot linger," Legolas announced as Gandalf settled quite comfortably on a block of stone. "We must move on."

Everyone ignored him, but Gilrael could see great distress in her fellow Elf's features. He felt it too.

"What exactly do you mean?" Aragorn whispered while the wizard handed his pointy hat and staff to Pippin, who looked nervous holding them.

"I mean that danger is approaching and we must leave quickly before the danger reaches us," Legolas replied to his friend, just as quietly, but more insistently.

Gandalf was reading aloud from the volume. "…We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes, drums, drums, in the deep."

Gilrael widened her eyes. Not again…

"We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming!"

Pippin tweaked a hand of a skeleton that was sitting on the edge of a well. Unfortunately, the head fell into the well and made a very loud clanging noise as it fell down. Then it took the whole skeleton with it, and banged all the way down the deep well. Pippin winced every time it made the unpleasant clanging sound, and let a breath of relief when it finished.

Everyone stared at the poor hobbit. Gandalf slammed the volume shut and set it down. "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" He grabbed his staff and hat back.

Suddenly, a dreadful noise sounded. _Boom, boom, boom._ The sound of drums. Then the cries of goblins and orc could be heard. The hobbits looked around, terrified. Frodo drew his sword, which shined blue when orcs were near. It was blue.

Boromir ran outside the door, and nearly got hit with an arrow. He slammed it shut, and with Aragorn and Legolas barred it closed.

He gasped, _"_ They have a cave troll!"

The Fellowship retreated to the middle, pulling out their weapons. Gimli jumped on the coffin and lifted his axe.

He roared, "Let them come! There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws axes!"

Gilrael held her two swords ready, her heart throbbing. Fighting was much better than waiting, waiting without being able to do a thing. It would take her mind off of…waiting.

Unlike Legolas, she was not an archer. Yes, she had reasonable skill, but her swordsmanship was unrivalled. Just as Legolas was the best archer in Middle Earth, so was Gilrael the best swordsman.

As if to prove the point, before the door was fully broken, Legolas fired an arrow. And another. And another. As the door was smashed open, the first line of orcs and goblins were shot dead by the master archer, but even he could not keep up with all of them. Soon the room was flooded with the horrid creatures.

Gilrael wasn't focused on slaying orcs, not even when the huge cave troll barrelled through the door. She was looking for the leader of the goblins, whom she knew would be one of the biggest.

As she sliced her way through the crowding orcs, her sharp brown eyes piercing through to find the largest one, Gilrael suddenly glanced back as the troll let out a deafening roar.

 _Oh, Eru._ Legolas was standing on the troll's shoulders, his eyes squinted and his brain clearly doing the arithmetic as he carefully aimed an arrow and fired. Gilrael winced as the arrow bounced off. He was not known for his prowess in arithmetic.

She turned her attention back to the orcs, and was occupied for a while as she finally located the leader. He wasn't doing anything. Just watching with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed.

So it was easy for Gilrael to sneak up to him and launch forward. He raised a blade, but she swiftly knocked it out of his hands and pushed him against the wall, her sword pressed tightly against his throat while she pinned him firmly.

"Call them off," she hissed in Black Speech. "This is unwise for both sides."

The orc leader seemed surprised for a moment at the language she used, but remembered quickly.

"L-Lady Glurdag-"

"It's Gilrael," she growled.

"Gilrael –"

"Lady!"

The orc tried to squirm, but her grip was too strong. "Call them off!"

"Lady Gilrael, I have my orders. Lord Roquen-"

"Who cares? He's no use. I had to call off his plan with the Nazgul, because his was stupid."

The orc widened its eyes. "T-the Nazgul?" The fear of those higher ranks was widespread, and Gilrael knew it.

"Yes, the Nazgul, so I suggest you follow their example and listen to me!"

The orc swallowed. "W-what did you say again?"

"Call off your troops. We all need to get out of here. It's coming."

The leader hesitated, but finally nodded, and shouted an order, but it fell silent as they discovered all the orcs had either run away or were slain. Gilrael promptly ended the life of the orc, and as she wiped her blades, ran forward.

"We need to leave _now_!"

But the Fellowship was not paying attention to her. They were crowded around a limp looking Frodo. As she approached them, Legolas whispered, "He got stabbed by the cave troll. Full on blow to the stomach."

Gilrael bit her lip. "He doesn't look good."

Legolas nodded. "You know, it was strange. Much of the orcs suddenly retreated at the end."

"I know. We need to _go_."

Suddenly, Frodo coughed, and everyone sighed with relief.

Aragorn gasped, "You should be dead!"

Frodo parted his shirt. A shining mail coat glimmered, made of mithril, and unpierceble.

Gandalf smiled. "There is more to this hobbit than meets the eye."

Suddenly, the shrieks of more goblins sounded, and the sinking feeling in Gilrael's stomach returned.

Gandalf cried, "To the bridge of Kazadum!"

As much as she wanted to leave, she couldn't just yet. As the others started off, Gilrael quickly pulled out some athelas leaves, rubbed them with the liquid from a specially prepared flask, and mixed it in with Frodo's water bag.

"Here, Frodo. Drink. It will make the pressure in your stomach go away."

The hobbit drank it gratefully. He was surprised the elf thought of it. True, he wasn't dead, but the force on his stomach was very painful. After he finished, they rushed out of the room, Gilrael running protectively behind to Frodo.

As they ran through the long hall, goblins looking like an infinite number of ants crawled down the columns. Soon, they were entirely surrounded. The elves each nocked an arrow while the others drew their swords, surrounding the hobbits protectively.

But before anyone could attack, a loud bellow echoed throughout the hall. At the end of it, a wide red-orange light glowed. Gilrael couldn't contain it. She let out a blood-curling scream. The goblins were just as terrified, and hastily scrambled back up the columns.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir breathed heavily.

"A Balrog!" Gilrael wailed. "We have awoken him!"

The Fellowship broke into a sprint through the halls. At the end of the hall, they passed through a small door. Boromir nearly fell off into the chasms below, but Legolas sprinted forward and grabbed him just in time.

The company descended the stairs and headed toward the bridge. Gandalf whispered to Aragorn, "Go on! Lead them. Swords are no use here."

They came to crack in the steps. Legolas jumped forward to help the others, while Gilrael stayed in the back. The first shock had been great, but she did better if there were people to protect and actual _action_ to be done. It was much better than walking through the dark mines waiting, always waiting, and not knowing.

Gandalf jumped as well, when arrows started falling from the sky. Gilrael's eyes pierced through the dark, and saw goblin archers. She quickly fired arrow after arrow, while Boromir and Merry and Pippin jumped.

Aragorn threw Sam, and made for Gimli, who held up a hand. "Nobody tosses a dwarf." He leaped, but it was short. Legolas grabbed his beard, much to his dismay.

Some of the rock on Aragorn, Frodo, and Gilrael's side broke off. The thumping sound drew near behind them. Rocks fell from the ceiling, and a large one hit the stairs. With the momentum, Aragorn, Frodo, and Gilrael were able to jump to the other side.

They continued down, and ran to the bridge. By then, the Balrog, covered in fire, appeared. The Fellowship quickly ran across the bridge, but Gandalf and Gilrael stayed behind.

Legolas started to move forward, but Gandalf shouted, "No, Legolas! You are more use with the Fellowship! And what are you doing Gilrael?"

But she stayed put, her lips quivering.

Legolas yelled, "Gilrael!"

"I can't let it happen again!" she shouted. "I won't let it happen again!"

Her dark eyes blazed, and the Fellowship stared at her helplessly. There would be no convincing her otherwise.

Elf and wizard turned to face the Balrog. Gandalf held up his staff. "You shall not pass!"

He chanted in elvish, and his staff lit up blue and white, which temporarily acted as a barrier for him.

"Go back to the shadow!"

The Balrog carried a fiery whip, and cracked the bridge.

Gilrael's hands shook as she pulled an arrow, her eyes fixed on this flaming monster. It was the same one, the same one. She glanced at Gandalf. Not again. Not AGAIN!

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at the Balrog in pure fury. Quickly murmuring an ancient spell she had found while in imprisonment, she released it furiously into the Balrog, who roared in pain and amazement. Gilrael was glad of its agony.

Gandalf yelled, "You shall not pass!"

He thrust his staff with magical energy into the bridge.

The Balrog ran forward, brandishing its whip and roaring wickedly. Gilrael growled a curse in Black Speech, but as she pulled back another magical arrow, a white flash pierced her mind. She staggered back, and no matter how much she blinked, all she saw was white. Vaguely, she heard cries.

"NO!"

"GANDALF!"

"GILRAEL?!"

Then, she heard a voice. The voice of Galadriel, and a faint ripple of music.

 _Look at yourself, Gilrael. You were becoming a beast, just like him._

I am not like him!

 _You must be very careful, lest you slip into your old self once again. Be careful, Gilrael. Be wary._

Something grabbed her waist, and she vaguely felt herself being carried.

 _Be wary,_ Galadriel whispered.

The next thing Gilrael knew, she saw the bright blue sky, exactly matching the bright blue eyes of the ellon carrying her. He gently set her on the ground.

"Gilrael, what happened?"

The elleth swallowed hard, a painful lump. "I failed, Legolas. I failed again."

The ellon frowned. "No, you didn't. You did all you could."

"I was becoming a monster!" she cried. "Did you see me?"

When he didn't answer, she knew. Sobbing, she stood. "I'm just like him!"

Legolas' tender eyes shone with compassion. "Like who?"

"Like Sauron!" Gilrael burst into fresh tears.

The Sinda laid a hand on her shoulder. "You know that's not true."

Gilrael wiped her face. "Don't trouble yourself about me, Legolas. My problems are too great for a kind, innocent soul like you. And it is not just I who are suffering. You too have lost someone dear. Because of me," she added miserably.

Legolas frowned again. "I know this sounds cruel, but I'd rather lose all the peoples of Middle Earth than lose you. Lose you to your pain and grief."

Gilrael bit her lip. "That's a foolish thing to do, to tie yourself to me like that. I'm too unpredictable."

With that, she slowly picked her way down the rocks, Legolas forced to watch her go as his heart slowly started to curl up and his face slowly morphed into an emotionless mask as he looked back on one of the worst days in his life. That's what happened on worst days. He would draw himself in tighter and tighter, and from the outside, no one could tell something was wrong.

But something was, indeed, very, very wrong. He had lost his beloved mentor and, it seemed, his best friend in the same day. And it looked like the next day wouldn't be much better. For the Fellowship was headed to the woods of Lothlorien, where, no doubt, Legolas would be forced to face his past. His past love.

 **A/N: Whoa, I have been SO busy lately! Sorry for my EXTREMELY late update! Thanks for sticking with me.**

 **Hope you enjoyed this long chapter (which took quite a bit of effort, patience, and imagination)! Stop by and dash off a review if you have the time!**

 **Have a wonderful day!**


	10. Chapter 10: Tension Ripens

_Please don't come, please don't come,_ Legolas pleaded to himself.

Usually, whenever he visited Lorien – which he had to admit was a very rare occasion – she would hide in the trees and watch him from above, thinking he couldn't see her. But he wasn't the best archer for nothing. His senses were so alert that he knew he was being watched every time, and he could even locate where she was.

But this was the first trip to Lorien with Gilrael, and if he wasn't mistaken, it was _her_ first trip _ever_ to visit the golden woods. If Nuileth and Gilrael met…Legolas bit his lip. It would be like fire and water clashing.

"What's the matter, mellon?" Aragorn whispered.

"Nothing."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "It's never nothing when you're gripping your bow so tightly that your hands are white."

Legolas immediately relaxed his hand. "It's none of your concern, Estel."

"Why? Because if you think dealing with whatever it is the same way Gilrael has been using, it's not going to work. You need to tell someone sooner or later. And that," he added to Gilrael, "also applies directly to you."

She scowled. "I've already told a few, and they died shortly thereafter, so unless you want to preserve your life, I'm not telling. Besides, I…can't."

The elleth continued marching ahead.

Legolas glared at Aragorn. "That helped."

The Ranger sighed. "If not even the gentle breeze of these fair woods nor the soothing atmosphere of the trees could bring her back, I doubt anything will. She has drawn within herself deeper than our reach."

Aragorn leaned in close. "Let's hope she doesn't meet Nuileth."

Legolas widened his eyes. "H-how did you-"

"The twins. They told me."

"But they swore that they wouldn't tell!"

Aragorn shook his head. "Better be careful how you word it. They can get around almost anything."

With that, they fell silent, each left in their own troubled thoughts.

* * *

Something about Lorien made Gilrael uneasy. There was a reason why she had never visited, only passed through as swiftly and as unnoticed as possible. Until a few short months ago, she had only a vague idea, but after the vision…she was afraid of who she might meet. What they might think of her. What _she_ might think of them…her brothers.

Gilrael didn't remember them. Didn't remember what they looked like. But would they remember her? Probably, and that is what she feared.

Gimli whispered to the hobbits. "Stay close to me! They say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An elf witch, of terrible power. All who look upon her, fall under her spell, and are never seen again."

Gilrael bit her lip. She hadn't even _thought_ about Lady Galadriel yet! What if she _knew_ about, about her past? What would Gilrael do?

Gimli gruffly said, "Well here's one dwarf who won't be snared so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk, and the ears of a fox."

Suddenly, he found an arrow pointed at his face, as did Gilrael, who narrowed her eyes at the ellon glaring at her just as stonily.

The Fellowship was surrounded by a band of grey cloaked elves, who all had pointed arrows at them.

The blonde leader stepped forward. "The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

Aragorn raised his hands in surrender, and greeted the head elf. "Mae govannen, Haldir of Lorien!"

The Elf glanced at the Ranger as he continued, "We come for your help. We need your protection."

Gimli urgently told Aragorn, "These woods are perilous! We should go back."

Haldir shot him a look, hard and steady. "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back. Come, she is waiting. Follow me."

The elves marched them forward, Legolas whispering to his old friend in the front. Gilrael lingered behind, not wanting to miss a word.

"Surely you will allow us to pass through Lorien."

The March Warden glanced back. "These woods belong to Lady Galadriel, not to me. Her will is to be done. I hope hers will accommodate yours, mellon."

Suddenly, Haldir's startling grey eyes focused on Gilrael's. His brow knit as he thought hard.

"Iston i nîf gîn." _I know your face._

Gilrael blinked. Her heart raced. This proper, regal, somewhat annoying mannered Elf might be her _brother_?

"H-how is that possible? We've never really met!"

Haldir turned away as they reached a large Mallorn tree. "We will speak together afterwards. For now, we have arrived."

They climbed the tree, and were soon among the rooftops, speaking in Sindarin while the Fellowship huddled together, watching quietly in that foreign place.

"Welcome, Legolas son of Thranduil."

Legolas rolled his eyes, but dipped his head properly. "Our Fellowship stands in your debt, O Haldir of Lorien the Regal One."

Gilrael quickly blurt out a greeting before Haldir could argue back properly. "A multitude of stars shine upon the hour of our meeting."

Haldir looked at Aragorn.

"Aragorn of the Dunedain, you are known to us. Arwen spoke much about you after your…visit."

The Ranger bowed. "Haldir."

Gimli harrumphed. "So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words everyone can understand!"

Haldir turned to Gimli and stared regally. "We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the dark days."

Gimli huffed, "And do you know what this Dwarf says to that?! Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!"

Aragorn instantly tapped Gimli's shoulder. He scolded, "That, was not so courteous!"

Haldir pierced Frodo and Sam with icy grey eyes. "You bring great evil here with you. You can go no further."

Aragorn and Legolas turned to Haldir, and they started arguing. Gilrael sighed, and sat down. Frodo inched his way to her.

He whispered, "What are they saying?"

Gilrael wrapped her arm around Frodo. "They are just arguing whether or not to allow us into Lorien."

Frodo looked up to stare in her deep brown eyes with his wide blue ones. "Do you think we will get into Lorien? That they will send us back because, because of the burden I bare? The burden that has killed…"

Gilrael pulled him closer. "Shh, Frodo. Gandalf's death was not in vain. Nor would he have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden, but you do not have to carry the weight of the dead."

Haldir stepped forward, announcing, "I will let you pass through, if the dwarf is blindfolded."

This caused in indignant growl from said dwarf. "Excuse me? I will not be blindfolded like a stupid animal."

Aragorn looked at Gimli helplessly. "It is the best deal I got from Haldir. It's either that, or stay here. Or go back." Gimli crossed his arms. "Then let's stay here or go back. I am not going to go in blindfolded!"

Legolas sighed. "Come, Gimli! Don't be so stubborn!"

Gimli smirked mischievously. "Actually, I'll go in blindfolded if Legolas here does as well."

The elf exclaimed, "That is ridiculous! These are my own kinsmen! I will not go in blindfolded!"

Gilrael crossed her arms. This brave Elven archer sounded so much like a child at times.

Aragorn frowned in frustration. "Not you as well! Legolas, please, just this once, please just go in blindfolded so we can be done with this!"

Legolas stubbornly shook his head.

"Gimli?"

The dwarf shook his head just as stubbornly.

Gilrael shot her friend a look. "Legolas, we will never get anywhere with both of your prides. Please cooperate. We've all had a long day."

Legolas softened. "Very well. As long as everyone in the Fellowship but you, Gilrael, go blindfolded as well."

Aragorn glanced at Gilrael. "Since when did he listen to you instead of me?" he whispered on their way out. She smirked.

Since the rest of the Fellowship didn't mind, they were all blindfolded and carefully led by the elves.

Gimli growled to his guide, "If I but stumble on a rock, I will have your head!"

The ellon rolled his eyes.

Haldir had Gilrael walk in front with him. "Tell me your story, Gilrael."

She glanced at him warily. "Why should I? I barely know you."

Haldir stared at her. "I will tell you mine, then, and maybe you will change your mind."

He took a deep breath. "A long, long time ago, a few decades short of three thousand years, my youngest sibling, Ilweranael, was born here in Lorien. An elleth, with the most beautiful blue eyes. Fearful of some danger for her, my parents took Ilweranael to the Woodland Realm, and stayed there with her, leaving my brothers and me here under the care of the Lord and Lady.

"A few decades passed when we heard that they were returning to Lorien with Ilweranael, and I was overjoyed in anticipation to see her. See her as a grown elfling. But my brothers and I received tidings that both parents and sister had been slain in an ambush by orcs, with gory remains of Naneth and Ada, and no trace of Ilweranael. I was heartbroken, and spent many a day mourning the lost of my beloved sister, dear to me though I had spent very little time with her."

Haldir glanced at Gilrael. "But perhaps I am wrong and you are not my sister. For your eyes are the darkest I have ever seen, and your name is not Ilweranael."

Gilrael couldn't hold it in anymore. She burst out rather passionately, "I am your sister! My real name is Ilweranael, Ada and Naneth were slain in an orc ambush, and I was taken away as a captive! Oh, Haldir, can it be? You are the brother that I was told about?"

The ellon smiled, and it was a shame Legolas couldn't see it, for he rarely did.

"I must be. And there are two others, Rumil and Orophin. But they are out scouting as of now. Oh, Ilweranael, how joyous is this day!"

The two siblings embraced, and for a moment, the Fellowship halted.

"What's going on?" Gimli growled. "Are we lost?"

"Nay, not lost," his guide answered good humouredly. "Just taking a break."

"I don't need a break!" the dwarf huffed.

The ellon smirked. "Then why are you out of breath?"

"It's not my fault that going up hill is hard on my legs! Why are we climbing so much, anyway?"

"It is because our destination is a place of high heights, Master Dwarf," replied the guide. "And lo, we are off again. You can stop fretting. We are nearly there as it is."

The ellon was right, for they only continued for a little while when they reached the summit of another hill top, and Gilrael absorbed in the wonderful sight.

Haldir declared, "Caras Galadhon. The heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."

The golden Mallorn trees filled a circle of the woods. They emitted the most beautiful hue as the sun peaked overhead, bringing a magnificent sunset. Peeking through a crack directly in the bundle of trees, Gilrael saw all the valley of the River Silverlode lying like a sea of fallow gold tossing gently in the breeze. Nestled high in the crown of the trees was a beautiful city, which sparkled blue and white in the low rays of the early sun. To the east, Gilrael spotted the great Anduin River, with an empty, vague land beyond it.

Haldir signalled to the elves, who took off the blindfolds. Everyone but Gimli looked around, breathing in amazement.

The dwarf stood with his arms crossed, muttering, "It's about time these durned elves took off our blindfolds."

"Can't you enjoy it?" Pippin scolded. "I'm not one for heights either, but this is worth the climb."

"There is still climb yet to go," Haldir announced. "We make for the flet of the Lord and Lady, nestled in the very top of the largest Mallorn tree. Three hundred and thirty-four steps."

As one, the Fellowship let out a groan. _More_ climbing?!

* * *

Nuileth stood in the private chambers of the Lord and Lady, speaking with Galadriel.

"…and I simply do not know what to do! I know it is wrong, very wrong, but I utterly _detest_ Ilweranael. I-I'm afraid I want to kill her."

At this sudden remark, Galadriel sharply glanced at the young elleth. "Those are strong words, Nuileth. You may want to reconsider them after you get to know Ilweranael better."

The archer crossed her arms bitterly. "How am I supposed to do that? She _stole_ Legolas from me."

"I highly doubt that," the Lady announced as she glided across the room, her silky white gown trailing behind her.

"I know Legolas' personality, and I know Ilweranael's. So it is highly probable that Ilweranael had nothing to do with luring Legolas' attentions from you to her, and that it was _Legolas'_ own doing to choose her over you."

Nuileth stared at her helplessly. "Then why? What did I do? What got into his head that she was still alive? How did he know?"

Galadriel smiled slightly. "The deepest love has a way of knowing. And you did nothing wrong, Nuileth. You are just not the right one for him."

Nuileth bit her lip. "Assuming you're right, which is very hard for me to admit, what am I to do now? I _love_ him, my Lady, a-and-"

"I cannot give you much advice, but as it is, I would avoid Ilweranael and most of all avoid killing her. That is all I can tell you."

Nuileth crinkled her forehead. "It's not hard to avoid her if she's never here."

Galadriel glided ahead, towards the steps. "Ah, but unless my ears are mistaken, I hear the sound of the Fellowship of the Ring in the platform. Amidst their company is Ilweranael, and I have no doubt that their stay in Lothlorien is going to be a lengthy one. So for the moment, you may want to make yourself scarce around here."

The Lady was joined by Lord Celeborn, and they soon disappeared out of sight down the stairs.

Nuileth swallowed. How was she going to avoid _both_ Legolas _and_ Ilweranael – that is, Gilrael – if they were going to be staying for a long time?

She needed Rumil's help. He was very good at hiding.

* * *

Gilrael lightly stepped onto a wide platform filled with a soft, golden light. The columns were emerald green and starlight silver. The domed roof was gold, and in the middle was a smaller version of the trunk of a Mallorn tree.

Two regal elves slowly stepped down a few long steps. The Lord Celeborn was on the left, while the Lady Galadriel was next to him. The lord of Lothlorien was dressed similar to Haldir, in a white and light grey tunic and leggings. The Lady donned a very long, shimmering white gown, with a sparkling silver diadem across her forehead which rested on her long, wavy blonde hair.

Celeborn solemnly spoke, "Nine there are, yet ten there were who set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For it is long since we have spoken, and I much desire to meet with him."

The Fellowship was silent as Galadriel studied Aragorn's eyes.

She softly said, "Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into Shadow." Celeborn glanced at his wife in wonder.

Gilrael bit her lips. "He was taken by both Shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

Galadriel comfortingly said, "Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose."

The Lady turned her gaze to Gimli. "Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin. For the world has grown full of peril. And in all lands love is now mingled with grief."

Galadriel looked at Boromir with a piercing gaze that he couldn't stand. He started shaking and cast his eyes downwards.

Galadriel gazed at Gilrael. "You have great power, Ilweranael daughter of Idhrenion. Tell me, where did you receive that power?"

Gilrael had no desire to tell _anyone_ , but she reasoned _this_ secret could be told to Galadriel.

As she slowly twisted the ring on her left hand, she glanced sideways at the Fellowship and softly said, "A spell book from Mordor."

Galadriel looked at her sharply. "We will speak of this later, Gilrael. Also to discuss the matter of your potential…corruption, if you are not careful."

Gilrael swallowed. Potential corruption? Galadriel was the wisest being on Middle Earth, and she was rarely wrong. Gilrael felt sick. She didn't want to fall back into her old ways and suffer like she had once.

Celeborn shook his head. "What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost. The quest will fail."

The Lady solemnly announced, "Not fail, not quite yet. This quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and _then_ it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the Company is true."

She glanced at Sam and smiled. The hobbit continued to gaze at the Lady in awe.

Galadriel ended, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace and safety."

The Fellowship walked back down the steps, where an area among a grove of trees was provided for them to rest in. Elves were singing in the trees.

Legolas drew a water with a jar from a nearby well of water, while Pippin asked, "What are they singing about?"

Legolas softly answered, "A lament for Gandalf."

Merry looked up. "What do they say about him?"

Legolas looked down. "I don't have the heart to tell you. For me the grief is still too near."

He glanced at Gilrael. "But Gilrael may tell you." The hobbits looked at the elleth.

She exhaled, not wanting to do it, but it was the least she could do for the wizard. So she softly started singing, translating the Sindarin into Westron.

" _Oh Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey! Ever so loving, so comforting, so gay._

 _Oh Gandalf, beloved Maia, beloved Istar! Sent down to Middle Earth, to help mortals find their ways._

 _Oh Gandalf, possessor of Narya! Protected the elvish ring of fire._

 _Oh Gandalf, shunning the Ring of Doom! Fighting the urge to take it away._

 _But Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey. You no longer dwell among us, because you have gone astray."_

Gilrael quieted and glanced at Sam as the hobbit said, "They don't mention his fireworks. There should be a verse about them.

" _The finest rockets ever seen,_

 _They burst in stars of blue and green._

 _Or after thunder, silver showers…Came falling like a…rain of flowers._

Oh, that doesn't do them justice by a long road."

Gilrael smiled. "Go on and sleep, Sam. You have had a long day."

The hobbit shook his head. "No, not before you tell us about that 'book of spells from Mordor' bit you told Galadriel."

The other members of the Fellowship looked at her curiously, Boromir included.

Gilrael curled back. "I'm not ready to tell the whole story."

Everyone looked to Legolas, for if there was one person who could convince her, it was him.

The Sinda cleared his throat. "If this Fellowship is to stay united, we all must know each other's stories. I think it's hardly fair that you know everyone else's but they do not know yours."

"This war is not about fairness," Gilrael shot back. "It's about winning, and in order to do that, I cannot tell you. It might prove dangerous."

"I don't think so," Legolas countered. "I think if you ever want to get over your…problem, the least you could do would be to tell them what I and Estel know. We'll have a much better ability to empathize with you and try to help."

"Exactly, I told _you_ and it didn't seem to help very much, did it?" Gilrael pointed out. But she could tell she was losing. She nearly always did.

So after a couple more back and forth arguing, Gilrael finally relented. The Fellowship sat in a circle on the soft grass, and the darkness lit with silver and blue glows set the sad mood over the group.

"This is the abbreviated form. I was only a young Elf, barely older than an elfling. I had grown up in the Woodland Realm, but my parents decided to move to Lorien, here, because they feared some danger. Along the way, as we were traveling along a path in the mountains, we were ambushed by a large group of dwarves, who ruthlessly killed my parents before my young eyes and stole our goods."

Gimli shook his head. "I knew those exiles were up to no good."

Gilrael ignored him. "The dwarves captured me and kept me alive, selling me to a pack of orcs and Wargs. They took me to Mordor, to Sauron, who questioned me. He wanted to know where the Ring of Power was, together with the Elven Rings. But I had no idea. So they t-tortured me constantly, until they became convinced that I really didn't know anything. Then, um, Sauron ordered me to be taught fighting and some sort of evil literature, and spells. He also taught me all the languages, and history. He was my teacher."

Boromir said in wonder, "So that is how you knew how to defeat a Balrog. You know the enemy's secrets!"

Gilrael looked at him. "I-I suppose I know many of them."

Frodo asked, "But how did you not believe the lies they told you? You were only an elfling, yet now you seem to be a normal, loving elf. How is that possible, when you were raised by Sauron and orcs?"

Gilrael looked down. "I did. But I discovered their lies and eventually learned how to ignore them, and I never forgot what my parents had taught me."

Boromir said, "You have great strength, lady."

She stared at him. "May it be an example for all, to fight their own evil desires when the time comes."

Boromir looked down. Gilrael pursed her lips. "Do not let me keep you all awake. Sleep, now."

The hobbits settled among the blankets, and Gimli was soon snoring. Aragorn and Boromir retreated to a corner and conversed quietly.

Gilrael glided over to Legolas, who sipped the water from the jar. He glanced at her. "You have suffered much, Gilrael. I can't let you do this alone. There must be some way to comfort you, to heal you."

Gilrael shook her head. "No, Legolas, nothing can comfort me, at least that I know of. Truly, if I knew what would help I would tell you. But my life in Mordor has engraved in my heart a great scar that cannot be healed. I fear it is a burden I must carry with me for the rest of my life."

Legolas pointed out, "That would be forever for you. Surely there is a way I can help fill the scar."

Gilrael smiled. "Always wanting to help, as usual. I appreciate that, you know. You are a great friend."

The prince smiled, but suddenly looked up at Haldir who had materialized next to them.

Legolas stood and told Gilrael, "Go, spend some time with your brother. If you are to heal as much as possible, the woods of Lothlorien is the best place. They bring great comfort."

So Haldir took Gilrael and they walked through Lorien.

"Your history was always very vague, Ilweranael," Haldir began. "Before I knew you were my sister, I always assumed you were just a normal Elf from the Woodland Realm. But now there is something much more significant about you. What happened after the…ambush?"

Gilrael slowly told him the abbreviated story, and when she finished, the March Warden told her, "If you seek healing, you should have looked to Lord Elrond."

"I have," the elleth muttered. "And all he ever told me was to tell Legolas."

Haldir frowned. "But you already told him. There must be something else."

"Of course there's something else!" Gilrael yelled.

The elves nearby looked at the pair disapprovingly, their typical peace and quiet thus disturbed.

Gilrael scowled at them, and strode hurriedly on. "But, Haldir, I _can't_ tell Legolas. It's hard enough as it is, but if he knew…"

The elleth felt like choking. "It will break his dear, innocent heart, and the least he would do would be to never see me again. The worst he would do would be to kill me. I couldn't stand either."

Haldir halted. "Kill you? It's that…bad?" That was the most descriptive word he could come up with.

Gilrael nodded as they walked into a small clearing, surrounded by columns. "And we'll leave it at that."

Two elves stepped out from the shadows: Rumil and Orophin. Her other two brothers. Rumil looked preoccupied, glancing behind every few seconds, but Orophin, the youngest brother, rushed forward.

"They did not kill you! All these years, I thought you were dead! I thought I would never see you again!"

Gilrael managed a smile. "I suppose you are Orophin?"

He nodded. "You must tell us everything!"

And Gilrael did, that is, as much as she had ever told anyone.

Rumil angrily declared, "Those dwarves murdered our parents, and practically caused you so much pain! Why did we allow one of the Nauga in Lothlorien? He could-"

"I think it would be wise for you to refrain from judgement until further observation," Haldir quietly announced.

Orophin still gazed at his sister in open disbelief. "So they kept you alive all these years, teaching you their ways. Why?"

Gilrael bit her lip. "I…don't know. But I hope, by the end of this quest, I will know."

Haldir grasped Gilrael's hand. "You should stay here, where it is safe. The enemy will be looking for you either way, since you are a powerful weapon, and you are heading directly toward them."

She shook her head. "I have pledged myself to Frodo, to do whatever I can to help him destroy the Ring."

Rumil pointed out, "Your pledge was not eternally bound. You are free to leave the Fellowship any time you like."

Gilrael crossed her arms. "I am not leaving the company!"

Orophin teased, "Is it because of a certain handsome Mirkwoodian elf who is in it?"

Gilrael's face coloured involuntarily. "Of course not! And I had thought that you three would give me support!"

Haldir hugged her. "Of course we will, sister. Now, you should go rest. Even elves need a little of it after long months of hiking."

"But I wish to stay with you!"

"We'll have lots of time to talk," Rumil pointed out. "I overheard Estel saying a month at least."

And Gilrael was thus persuaded to return to the Fellowship for a rest, but not before Galadriel intercepted her.

"Ilweranael, I must show you something."

Without another word, the Lady softly padded through the trees, and Gilrael was obliged to follow.

They arrived in yet another clearing, but this was Galadriel's own. Her all-seeing Mirror occupied the centre, and its owner stood solemnly behind it.

"Look if you dare, if you are strong enough to behold the future."

Gilrael blinked. " _The_ future?"

The Lady's eyes were a startling, unnatural blue.

"The future that will be yours if you do not guard against it."

Gilrael stared at her, carefully wording her next statement. "Guard against what?"

Galadriel's gaze was relentless. "I do not know the full details of your past, Ilweranael, but you do. Therefore, you are the only one who knows how to overcome this danger. As for what it is, take a look a see, if you will."

The Lady dipped her head toward the well, the Mirror, as Gilrael studied her cautiously. This _was_ Galadriel. She was prone to be vague. Still, Gilrael had a fine idea of what she might see, and she wasn't eager to see it.

But she had no choice.

So slowly, Gilrael took a hesitant step forward, and gradually peered into the well.

It immediately flickered into flames, which then cleared into a terrifying scene.

She was right.

Towns were lit ablaze, wailing people fleeing from them. A powerful black force swept over the dark lands with a steady, gripping pound. A palace, dark with intense evil, and two thrones, flames burning above. And amidst it all, one resounding cry, the heartbeat of every being in Middle Earth, dead and alive, praising the two rulers on the thrones.

"Hail, Lord Sauron, king of all the lands of Arda, wielder of the One Ring! Hail, Lady Ilweranael, his queen, bearer of the Fourth Ring!"

Something sharp pierced her heart, now being able to recognize the name. It was her.

"NO!"

Gilrael stumbled backwards, her breaths heaving unsteadily. The world spun. Not again…the vision…Melkor…just like last time…

Galadriel stared at her sharply. "Now you see, Gilrael. What will you do about it?"

The elleth balanced herself on a tree, just barely managing to hold herself together. She grit her teeth.

"I do not know, _Galadriel_ ," she growled. "But if you thought that would help, it didn't."

The Lady was unfazed. "It spoke of you being the bearer of the Fourth Ring. What do you know of it?"

Gilrael breathed heavily. Her thoughts flashed to her first few days after Legolas rescued her, the secret underground cavern in the Woodland Realm, carved by his grandfather, Oropher.

"I know it has great power, unlike that of the other Three combined. But I know nothing else, I swear."

She pulled herself off the tree, shaking as she glared at the Lady.

"And no, I have no idea where it is, or who has it."

…

 _Ithiriel sucked in a quick breath as she clamped her other hand to the one with the Ring. Something had happened…something had stirred. Someone was beginning to know her secret._

 **A/N: Super long chapter!**

 **The Lament for Gandalf was something I wrote myself, as you could probably tell by it's painfully obvious…lack of experience. :) As for the stuff about the Fourth Ring and the early days after Gilrael was rescued by Legolas, I would recommend taking a look at the first book in the series,** _ **The Elven Huntress**_ **, for more understanding.**

 **Thanks for reading, and for reviewing if you have the time!**

 **Have a lovely day!**


	11. Chapter 11: Lost Love in Lorien

Gilrael's mood was quite bedraggled over the next few weeks. Something about Lorien was soothing, yes, but also strangely…gloomy. She preferred the more cheerful, festive atmosphere of Imladris.

It also didn't help that the Sindarin elves were wary of her, being the lieutenant of the Woodland Realm and all. They weren't fond of anything to disturb their usual calm and quiet.

So, since Legolas was more wrapped up in his thoughts than he'd ever been, and their relationship was rather…strained, Gilrael was left to wander around alone, trying to avoid the rest of the Fellowship who occasionally asked how she was doing.

That allowed for plenty of time for her dismal thoughts to swirl around in her head. Where might the Fourth Ring be? Who might be its bearer? Were they friends or foe? And her own problems – Eru, it would take a lifetime to list them out.

She was in the middle of a deep thought when Legolas, out of nowhere, interrupted it.

"Gilrael, we haven't spoken in weeks. You must tell me what's wrong."

She scowled. "Nothing's changed. _Everything_ is wrong, just like before."

"Before what?"

"Before Mithrandir died, because of me."

Legolas frowned. "You know it wasn't your fault."

"It doesn't make me feel any less guilty!"

The Sinda crossed his arms. "You're not being rational."

Gilrael jutted her chin out stubbornly. "So? It's not going to help."

Legolas sighed. "You do know that I'm not your enemy, right? I'm trying to help, Gilrael, but you must let me try. I don't know what has got into your head now, because you seem freshly distraught, but either way, keeping it to yourself is not going to help anyone. So please, take my advice and-"

"Oh, will you just SHUT UP? I can't take it anymore!"

Legolas stared at her, stunned. "W-what?"

Gilrael's stomach churned at the adorable, caring blue eyes gazing at her. She couldn't bear it, not anymore!

"I-I can't, Legolas. I'm sorry, but I can't-"

"Can't what?" he interrupted, angry now. "Can't take advice from the person who saved you from that monster? From a friend who cares for no one more? Or you can't stand to see me anymore and you want me to get out of your life?"

Gilrael blinked, swallowing hard as she fought tears of heartache that were oh-so familiar. "All that's t-true, but not-"

"Alright then. Forgive me if I comply to your wishes."

Before she could protest, he spun around on his heel and stalked off. But unbeknownst to her, he roughly wiped his eyes, and swallowed back a choke of pain and frustration.

* * *

If Gilrael thought she had felt bad, she felt ten times worse after he left. Yes, it was technically the right thing to do, but it was unbearable. Suppose…suppose it was the last straw! Suppose Legolas' patience had run out, and her last chance was over!

She spent a few days agonizing over her problem, and cursing Sauron with every breath she took. If only he didn't exist! If only she wasn't captured! If only, if only, if only!

However, her wall of self-control finally broke. She couldn't help it. Gilrael decided to find Legolas, wherever he had hidden himself, and apologize. Hopefully he would understand and forgive her, and all would be well again.

It was hard work. He knew the forests of Lothlorien better than she did, and probably had some secret hiding place of his where he certainly was concealing himself.

Finally, Gilrael decided to ask Aragorn for help. He suggested an option immediately.

"There's one place where you haven't looked yet. It was where I first saw Arwen, a secret meadow deep in the heart of the woods. The Lorien elves call it Lovers' Glade."

"Where is it?"

"The utter Southwest, in the densest part of the forest. You'll find it if you look hard, and use your tracking skills. So, what exactly happened again?"

But she had already left.

Gilrael practically flew through the forest, eagerly searching the ground for tracks and occasionally glancing up in the trees for any signs of the ellon. To no avail.

However, as Gilrael finally located Lovers' Glade, she stopped short, widening her eyes. There, in the centre of this withdrawn, concealed meadow, was a couple. Gilrael sucked in an astonished breath.

Legolas was with…another elleth. Her head was buried in his chest, while he stroked her hair lovingly. The look in his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, was clearly adoring her. Gilrael felt sick with jealousy. How often had he looked at _her_ like that? Was he really so low that he would carry out a secret romance unbeknownst to her? Even though they had just fought?

Her sharp ears caught his gentle words.

"…love you. You understand, don't you Nuileth? Ilweranael just isn't as-"

And Gilrael couldn't take it anymore.

She burst into the clearing, trembling with confusion, hurt, and anger. Tears rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks, for she was too spent to even attempt to hold them in anymore.

Legolas quickly stepped away from the elleth, Nuileth, and saved her from speaking first.

"Gilrael, it's not what you think!"

Her lips quivered. "It's everything I've seen, known, and thought. But at least I know that you meant what you said."

She turned and fled away from them, sobbing her heart out, so she didn't see Nuileth's look of confusion.

"Um, Legolas? I don't understand."

The ellon glared at her. "Me neither, Nuileth. I wish I'd never met you."

Then he, too, dashed off, towards Gilrael, but not to overtake her. He knew she would be too emotionally cut in grief for anything he did to help, and perhaps _he_ was too hurt as well.

* * *

Nuileth walked back to her flet in a trance, her head dizzy with what facts she knew and what facts she did not understand at all. She had thought, the minute Gilrael stood in her presence, she might fly at her in rage with a knife drawn, but it was the opposite.

When Gilrael burst into the meadow, Nuileth couldn't help but feel a wave of sympathy and compassion wash over her. Of course it would look as if Legolas had pursued another romance without her knowledge, and that it was Nuileth's fault.

The elleth felt guilty. All it took was imagining Gilrael's stricken face, and then Legolas' heartbroken one, and she knew that she harbored no more ill feelings toward her 'rival'. Finally, Nuileth understood what true love was. Yes, she still loved Legolas. But she couldn't bear to see that look on his face, and she wanted him to be happy. If that meant being with Gilrael, and not her, so be it.

The first proper thing to do would be to go to Gilrael and apologize, but before she could, lo and behold, Legolas himself stepped into sight.

He was by no means his old self, but he was cordial, at the least.

"When you go to Gilrael, you must word yourself very carefully. She has suffered a lot in her youth, more than even I can understand, but it has made her broken and delicate, no matter how strong her mask may seem. Please be gentle and considerate."

Without another word, he turned and left.

Nuileth blinked in surprise, but, she supposed, it was just like him. He had the best timing when he wanted it.

* * *

Gilrael was no stranger to heartbreak. She had had multiple blows to her heart, and several deep wounds. This was another one, but it was one of the deepest.

She cried for a full day, but after that, it seemed as if her tears were doing no good, so she stopped. Her heart throbbed and ached once more, pain fresh. How much effort she had spent covering all of her hurt up! But now, at this recent attack, all of her work was destroyed. She would have to start over, recovering.

The leaves rustled, and Gilrael looked up in surprise. Who would dare to come? She was astonished to see a humbled Nuileth dipping her head before her.

"Please hear me out, Ilweranael. I know you've never met me, but I know a great deal about you. And…I hope you'll give me a second chance."

Gilrael couldn't say anything, only stare.

"It was my fault. If I had forgiven him sooner, he wouldn't have felt obliged to-"

Gilrael stood abruptly. "It _wasn't_ your fault," she curtly announced. "Don't blame yourself for anything, and certainly don't be troubled. I forgive you for whatever you think you did."

It was Nuileth's turn to stare in astonishment as this elleth, whom she had loathed for centuries, swiftly left her sight, _forgiving her_. Could she have been that mistaken? One thing was for sure – she had to get to know her better. And there was only one, rather pathetic but only one, way to start.

Maybe, after all, she would understand how Legolas could love her so much.

* * *

Legolas waited exactly two weeks before speaking to her, the day before Aragorn decided to continue on their quest. The Fellowship, for the most part, was healed enough from Mithrandir's death to move on. They knew something momentous had occurred between the two elven members, but other than that, assumed they were over it and that was that.

Over the weeks, much to his own surprise, Legolas found that Gimli had become primely inseparable. The dwarf, for all his barbaric habits, was kind and endlessly entertaining, besides being extremely loyal. Of course, Gimli could still be annoying, but then again, Legolas must have been annoying to him.

Mithrandir was right. Holding a grievance for all dwarf-kind was a childish thing to do, even if they _had_ stolen a Silmaril in the elder days, and even if they _had_ had a part in turning Gilrael into what she was.

And it was time he changed that.

Nuileth had reported to him Gilrael's puzzling reply to her apology that she hadn't even finished, but it was certainly not puzzling to him. He knew exactly why Nuileth took no blame: _he_ was the one she would blame.

Thus prepared, Legolas approached her. She was sitting on a boulder, staring at the river Anduin with glazed eyes. She didn't move, not even when he softly lowered himself on a similar boulder beside her.

For a few minutes, they sat there in utter silence, only disturbed by the fast-moving water and the far-off song of the elves.

Finally, Gilrael turned reluctantly to the ellon with a scowl. "Do whatever apology speech you planned up, but don't expect me to forgive you."

"I won't," he answered rather quickly. "I will, however, expect you to listen. _Actually_ listen. What chance do I have if you don't even hear me out?"

Gilrael studied him warily, knowing full well that he was the better speaker of the two, and had often succeeded in persuading her, while she, on the other hand, was rarely victorious. But she would hold her ground, and not be swayed by his silver tongue, or those beautiful, endearing eyes, or his – _Stop it_ , she thought angrily.

"Fine. I'll listen."

Legolas stared at her hard, and she had no choice but to look back if she didn't want to be weak. Unfortunately, that meant there was no way to avoid that…flutter in her stomach.

"Ilweranael," he began – much to her annoyance at using her real name which held so much power – "do you know what I was telling Nuileth when you…came?"

Her eyes were hardened, a bad sign. "You were telling her that you loved her. I remember it word for word. 'I love you. You understand, don't you Nuileth? Gilrael just isn't' and that's when I emerged. You were probably saying how I wasn't as good as she was."

Legolas tilted his head. "Strange, isn't it, that you included the word probably. It means that you have doubts."

Gilrael glared at him. "You know I don't think about my words as much as you do, professional diplomat! And you also know that your typical, diplomatic approach isn't working!"

"I also know," he added smoothly, "that only the truth will have any effect on you."

She grudgingly quieted for a moment.

"Let me tell you what happened that day. I was-"

"I don't care what happened that day! Actually, I do, but I want you to go further. When you first met her. _Everything_. The truth. Please."

She hammered out her requirement like she did her sword blows.

Legolas bit his lip. He wasn't thrilled to tell her _everything_ , but…he loved her. So he might as well…try to get her back.

"I met Nuileth a few years after we thought you were…dead. I didn't think I could love anyone after Naneth died, and then you, but when I met Nuileth, it changed. She was beautiful, a talented archer, but eventually, it wasn't enough for me. I thought I loved her, and I told her so, but soon after, I realized she wasn't the one for me. She wasn't…you."

Gilrael crossed her arms. "Nice story. So what? You rejected her, a few centuries pass, you wind up here, and you're in love again. Hmm? Is that right?"

"No." His look was firm. "I did reject her, but she didn't reject me. She was devastated."

"I can imagine," Gilrael replied sarcastically. "As was every other elleth whose heart was broken by you, but you changed your mind because they weren't me."

Legolas shot her a look, and she sighed. "Sorry. Continue."

"I felt very bad about leaving her, since I had stayed in Lorien while we were, um, together. Especially when she burst into tears and I _felt_ how bad she felt. I could barely live with myself, ruining someone like that. So when I finally came back to Lorien for the first time since I…rejected her, I decided to clean things up. She was hugging me and had her head pressed against me because she was crying, Gilrael. Sobbing heart wrenchingly. The only reason I might have been stroking her hair or murmuring words of comfort was because I was sorry for her. I truly was. But it wasn't because of love. I didn't tell her I loved her. She had asked me, and I replied, 'No, I don't love you. You understand, Nuileth, don't you?' Before you came, I was then going to add how you weren't as shallow as she was, how you were more thoughtful and liked to ponder about complex things, when she didn't.

"Do _you_ understand, Gilrael? I rejected her even though I thought you were dead, because I could never love anyone how I love…you. I do, Ilweranael, and you can yell at me or do what you always do, but I love you, and I always will. Here comes the part where you tell me you can't accept me, and where you storm off in a whirlwind of tears."

Gilrael was, in fact, about to do just that, but his announcing it somewhat…slowed her. She swallowed hard, and Legolas could see her literally shaking from the turmoil inside of her. He never knew what she was going to say next. Sometimes he thought she loved him back, but other times, it seemed she hated him.

What she said next stunned him.

"You should have stayed with Nuileth, and not place your affections on me," she hissed icily, all her shaking and emotion gone. "I can never return them, Legolas Thrandulion, so you might as well give up."

She stood and walked off, purposely dignified instead of her usual shredded emotional state, and Legolas was the opposite. Usually cool and collected, this was it. He stood, angry and frustrated.

"I might just do that!"

"And take your dwarf-scum with you," she called back.

That made him bristle even more. "I will! He's more reasonable than _you_ are!"

But secretly, both of them were torn and heartbroken.

* * *

The next morning, the Fellowship packed their things as Haldir led them to the shores of the Anduin River. Each member in the Fellowship was given an Elven cloak, pinned with a shiny green leaf of a Mallorn.

Celeborn announced, "Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people. May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

Gilrael and Legolas made it a point to stand as far away from each other as possible, so it meant she could hear Celeborn's quiet remarks to Aragorn and he couldn't.

"Every league you travel south," he said, "the danger will increase. Mordor Orcs now hold the eastern shore of the Anduin. Nor will you find safety on the western bank. Strange creatures bearing the white hand have been seen on our borders. Seldom do Orcs journey in the open under the sun, yet these have done so."

Gilrael gazed forward gravely. Forget about her problem with Legolas. More people were at risk, and she would _not_ let them get killed like…last time.

Celeborn continued, "Le aphadar aen." _You are being tracked._ "By river you have the chance of outrunning the enemy to the Falls of Rauros."

Galadriel addressed the company, who lined up in a row, and bestowed on them gifts. Gilrael barely registered Legolas' gift, a long, sturdy white bow of the Galadhrim. She knew he would very much enjoy it, but at the moment, his face was as expressionless as a glassy pool of water.

Galadriel gave Gilrael a fist sized emerald green flask. "This cordial has the power to heal any injury. Simply place a drop on a wound and it will heal." Gilrael fitted the flask securely in her belt with a nod of thanks.

After each member of the Fellowship was given a gift – Gimli's, no doubt, the most bizarre – Galadriel stood in front of Aragorn. "I have nothing greater to give than the gift you already bear."

She lightly placed her fingers on the Evenstar around his neck. "Am meleth dîn, i ant e guil Arwen Undómiel pígatha." _For her love, I fear the grace of Arwen Evenstar will diminish._

Aragorn said, "Aníron i e broniatha, ad ae periatham athar i methid en-amar hen. Aníron i e círatha na Valannor." _I would have her leave these shores and be with her people. I would have her take the ship to Valinor._

Galadriel sighed. "That choice is yet before her. You have your own choice to make, Aragorn. To rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin. Namárië. There is much you have left to do. We will not meet again, Elessar."

Galadriel looked at Frodo. "Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star." She handed him a crystal phial, and lightly kissed his forehead. "May it be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

The Fellowship then got into the boats. Gilrael hugged her brothers good-bye.

Haldir told her, "Be safe, Gilrael. And be wise in your decisions."

Orophin said rather ruefully, "If you die, I believe I will fade. So please do not die." She smiled weakly.

Rumil hugged her. "Take care of the Fellowship. I admire your bravery, sister, and I hope you return safely."

With that, she looked at which of the three canoes to step in. Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam were in one, while Boromir, Merry, and Pippin were in another. Gimli was sitting in the last one, while Legolas was waiting for Gilrael.

She clenched her hands over her bow. Had the Fellowship made her sit with Legolas and Gimli on purpose? It appeared that they did, because they all, except Boromir, grinned. The man of Gondor looked regretful.

Gilrael marched to the shore, lightly stepped into the canoe and plopped herself in the back, furthest from Gimli. Legolas sighed wearily, and sat in the middle. They pushed off from shore, with Legolas paddling.

Needless to say, all three inhabitants of that canoe were in a very…disturbed state of mind.

* * *

Tauriel crouched by the reeds, her sharp green eyes piercing through them. The creature Gollum was stealthily concealed behind a long log, but Tauriel had been following him for days. If he had found the Ring, Tauriel would know. And she would take it from him, to bring it to Roquen.


	12. Chapter 12: Turmoil

All day, every day, for at least a week the elves were arguing. Constantly. Without rest. So much so that they had often threatened to tip the boat over in their heated quarrel.

Gimli sat in the front of the canoe, chin in his hands as he gazed sulkily over the water and to the others in front of him. It was bad enough that he had to get in a boat, on such a swiftly moving river too, but it was even worse that Legolas didn't seem to be paying much attention to rowing or keeping the canoe adrift.

No, the durned Elf was focused on yelling at his kinsman in their stupid language, and Gimli, to relieve his boredom and apprehension of the swirling water beneath him, wanted to know what it was about.

So he turned around. " _What_ are you two arguing about? Can you at _least_ speak in a language I can understand?"

Aragorn, who understood the elves' shouting perfectly, called back, "I don't think you want them to, Gimli!"

The dwarf sighed. Surely, he understood a quarrel, but to go on and on…it was unlike them. Even for an Elf.

So when dusk finally came and the Fellowship rowed to the shore to camp for the night, Gimli hoped against hope that the Elves would either come to an agreement or else give up.

Unfortunately his wishes were not quite granted, though circumstances _did_ allow for them to grow silent.

* * *

It was pitch black, but the elves were able to make out the shore, barely.

Gilrael looked at the very dark sky. _That's strange,_ she thought. _Usually it is not this dark, and I can see perfectly. Even in Moria I could see better than this._

She and Legolas grudgingly worked together to make sure the canoes landed on shore safely. They also managed to cooperate when helping to set up camp among some tall cliffs and rocks.

But then, a gnawing feeling of darkness swept over her. Unconsciously, she found herself glancing in Legolas' direction, and his eyes were likewise riveted on her. He nodded curtly, and the feeling in Gilrael's stomach lurched. They were right.

The Elves quickly grabbed their bows and scaled the cliff. Gilrael's senses were on high alert. She couldn't see anything, but she could hear and see well. A creature very large and evil was quickly approaching.

Everything happened so quickly that Gilrael couldn't register it, for suddenly, a shrill shriek pierced the night air as the cliff shook with the force of a heavy weight, and then there was a chilling hissing sound followed by another, more ominous shriek. Then all was still, except for the scrambling of Aragorn and Gimli up the cliff.

The former wielded a brightly flickering torch, which he waved over the crest of the hill. There lay a Fell Beast, an arrow through its forehead, and a Nazgul, similarly slain.

"By Eru, Legolas, how did you do that?" Aragorn breathed as they observed the ghastly scene.

"Quite a mighty shot in the dark, I'd say," Gimli remarked.

Legolas grunted something in reply, but he was in no mood for a celebration. After literally ignoring Gilrael, he headed back down the cliff.

The elleth clenched her teeth. What about him was so _irritating_? She had already resigned herself that she would not – _could_ not – love him anymore, so the hurricane of emotions that resulted might have instigated what happened next.

What happened next was a full-on, blown out fight between Gilrael and Legolas, which was thankfully not a physical one.

I will not record the exact words of their entire argument, since they will likely lower your respect for both of them, but I _will_ say, for the sake of truth, that amongst their quarrelling Gilrael accused Legolas of being a haughty, arrogant, and stupid traitor, while he fired back with calling her a foolish, narrow-minded racist.

The fighting grew on and on, the Fellowship watching in horror though most could not understand the Sindarin. The one who _could_ understand them, Aragorn, winced in pain at every word. Legolas was his best friend, ever since he was a small child, and Gilrael had taught him how to use a sword. Aragorn also knew that Legolas and Gilrael were inseparable friends, so whatever had caused them to fight must have been incredibly significant.

Eventually, Legolas pleaded, "Come, Gilrael! We can figure this out! We can talk it out!"

Gilrael snorted. "Oh really? Like, talk it out like we're doing now?"

Legolas retorted, "Well at least I'm trying to come to a solution, unlike you, who is too stubborn and thick headed to mind it!"

Gilrael blazed. "Me? Look at you, you traitor to elven kind! Running off and making friends with dwarves!"

Suddenly, Frodo sprang up. The others tried to stop him, but the hobbit swiftly ran toward the elves. He undid the chain that held the Ring, and dangled it in front of them. Instantly, the Elves quieted.

Frodo gasped, "Take it! Just take it! I know you're arguing about it, and you want it. Well, I'm giving it to you, both of you. So stop arguing!"

The Elves were shocked. Legolas quickly took a step back. "No, Frodo. That's not what we were arguing about. And I would _never_ take it."

But Gilrael stood and stared at the ring, transfixed.

It seemed like it was calling to her, _Take me, do not fear. Take me!_

Aragorn yelled, "Gilrael! Step back!"

But she didn't hear him.

Suddenly, her vision swirled as she looked at the ring. She was, seemingly, no longer on the shores of the Anduin, but was back in Mordor, in Barad Dur, Sauron's tower.

He was grinning evilly at her, lounging on his black throne. Yes, he was handsome, but in a wicked way. The elf maiden's whole body was jolting with invisible fiery bolts of agony, struggling with the temptation of the Ring.

Gilrael gasped, "Sauron! Stop this pain! Stop it!"

Sauron suggested, "If you take the ring, it will stop."

Gilrael screamed, "N-Never!"

Sauron leaned forward, orange eyes almost full of concern. "Gilrael, you must take it! You know you can! You can easily defeat the whole Fellowship should they turn against you, with the spells that you know. Take the Ring, Gilrael! It's the only way."

She managed to shake her head. "NO! I will never betray the Fellowship!"

Sauron sprang from his throne. He grasped her arm and supported her from falling. He pleaded, "Gilrael, please, please, please take the Ring! Once you have it, you can come back here, to Mordor. You can be my queen, and together, we will rule Middle Earth!"

Gilrael's whole body shook. "Make it stop! Make it go away!"

Sauron pulled her close. "Just take the Ring, Gilrael. Take it, and you will be free of this pain, your agony."

Gilrael's will started to falter. The pain was increasingly great, and her arm burned from where Sauron touched her.

She started for the Ring, dangling mid-air.

Sauron encouraged her. "Yes, yes! Forget the Fellowship. Forget Frodo. Forget Aragorn. Forget Legolas."

But that was his mistake. Deep down, in her heart, no matter how much she had resolved not to, no matter how much she _forced_ herself not to, Gilrael truly _did_ care for the prince.

And she started to hear a small, desperate voice in her head. Legolas' voice. "Gilrael, fight it! Ilya nauva mára _." Everything will be alright._

But the pain, the intense pain. Her mind was clouded. It commanded her body to do anything to get rid of that agony. Her will crumbled. She drew her sword and reached for the Ring. But an invisible force drew her away from the Dark Lord's embrace. A flash of silver, white light surrounded her. Immediately, the vision shattered.

She was back in front of Frodo, who had been pushed to the side by Aragorn when Gilrael drew her sword. Legolas held her arms, but she collapsed to the ground, her form still trembling. Boromir rushed forward. Gilrael felt the pain slowly leave her, which was finally completely gone. She grasped the two hands offered to her, and shakily stood.

Boromir had picked up her sword, and now gave it back to her. She sheathed it, and took a deep breath.

The hobbits stood protectively in front of Frodo, with Aragorn gazing at her with a stern look. Everyone was otherwise in complete shock.

Gilrael pushed Legolas' arms from her shoulders. Tears quickly formed in her eyes. "What have I done? What have I done? Frodo…"

Then she sprinted into the forest after grabbing her bow, tears flowing quickly.

* * *

As Aragorn ordered the Fellowship to settle down for the night, he approached a stone-still Legolas.

"She has a problem, Legolas." He spoke in Sindarin. "She needs love, care. She had no parents to love her as she was being raised. No mentors to love her. You can be none of those, but you _can_ –"

"Be her friend," the Elf finished with determination. "She will be difficult, but I _will_ win."

Then he started to run towards the forest, but Gimli held him back. "Are you sure it's the best idea, laddie? I should think she doesn't want to see anyone."

Legolas brushed the dwarf aside gently. "Yes, Gimli, she doesn't want to see most people. But right now, the only person she _needs_ is me. Think how terrible she feels right now! She was just about to take the Ring! I saw her reach for it."

Aragorn looked to the forest. "Go, Legolas. I will watch over the others this night."

With that, the Sinda took off into the forest, but unbeknownst to all, Boromir also slipped away.

* * *

Gilrael raced through the forest. After the Nazgul had been slain, a full moon shone, lighting up the forest, and making it very easy for her to navigate. Gilrael rarely cried, but her nerves were totally spent from the Nazgul attack, the fight with Legolas, and ultimately, Sauron's torture. And to think she almost took the Ring!

She found a very tall pine tree, and quickly climbed it. She settled in the branches and cried softly, still alert to any danger that may linger in the forest.

* * *

Legolas sprinted through the forest. He looked around intently, but to his surprise he found no trace of Gilrael. He didn't dare call her name, for fear an enemy lurking in the forest may hear him.

Usually, the prince found hidden things in forests easily, since he was a wood elf. Unfortunately, Gilrael was also taught by the Silvan elves, and therefore was a wood elf as well.

Suddenly, Legolas' keen ears caught a faint, rustling noise. Something walking on two legs was rambling through the forest. Legolas quickly nocked an arrow and quietly sprinted toward the sound. Whatever it was, he had to know.

* * *

Gilrael was crying, when she heard a distinct, loud sound of something walking, and the clank of armour. She instantly sucked up her tears, and peered down. Sure enough, something was there, but she couldn't see it very well. It was camouflaged.

She swiftly jumped down soundlessly, nocked an arrow, and placed it in front of the creature's head. It reared back, but another arrow was pointed at its back. Legolas.

The person quickly lifted off the cloak. Gilrael lowered her bow. It was Boromir. The Man of Gondor gasped, "You both almost gave me a heart attack! I was looking for you, Gilrael, and all of a sudden- whoosh! Arrow, in my face, and in my back!" The elves slowly put their arrows back.

Gilrael demanded, "Why were you looking for me? You are supposed to be at the camp."

Legolas gently held her arm. "Stille nu, Gilrael. Your nerves are already spent." _Quiet now, Gilrael._

He turned to Boromir. "Please go back to camp, Boromir."

The man glanced at Gilrael. "But I came to ask after you. Will you be alright, Gilrael?"

She nodded curtly. "Of course."

The man turned to leave, but Gilrael suddenly grabbed his arm. He looked at her as she quickly advised, "Remember, never underestimate the power of the Ring. It tempts you when you are weakest."

She let him go, and after a moment of hesitation, the man left.

Legolas turned to Gilrael. "Come, I hear a stream up ahead. It would soothe you better listening to it."

They walked to the stream, Gilrael sobbing into Legolas' arm. They climbed a large boulder near the stream, and sat. Gilrael started shaking again. Legolas quickly took hold of her hands. He looked at her worriedly. "Gilrael! Your hands are blistering and red!"

The Sinda took off her archery braces on her forearms and rolled up her sleeves. He gasped. "Your arms are red and blistered as well!"

Gilrael muttered, "Must be from when Sauron held my arm and lifted me up."

Legolas cupped his hands with water and splashed it on her arms, but it didn't help. A few moments later, Gilrael whispered, "I am so sorry." She fainted.

Quickly, Legolas sprang into action. He gently placed her head on the rock, and took out her box of athelas leaves. He dipped them in the water, rubbed them into a paste, and slathered it onto Gilrael's arms and hands while chanting an elvish healing spell.

Legolas was a warrior, which meant he practically never healed anyone, but spent his time killing orcs. Now, however, was an emergency, and it would take too long to get Aragorn. Luckily, his father had taught him some healing spells.

After a few moments, Gilrael gasped and slowly managed to sit up. Legolas quickly supported her, and wrapped his arms around her shoulder to keep her from falling. She whispered, "Thank you, Legolas. I feel much better."

Legolas lifted her up, and carried her. "I need to take you to Aragorn. He knows how to heal much more than I do."

Gilrael pushed him and slipped out of his arms. "That won't be needed. I am perfectly fine."

Legolas wasn't so sure. "Are you certain? Sauron harmed you painfully, although how he did it, I do not know."

"I'm certain." She sat down pointedly, and he seated himself in front of her.

The elleth sighed. "Sauron has many evil spells that he uses to talk to you through your mind. He is able to draw you in a trance, making it seem like you are wherever he wants you to be. His touch is fiery if you are not on his side, but otherwise is normal. That is probably why my arms are, or were, burnt." She looked down, and her arms were only light red.

Legolas asked, "Do you know how to do those spells?"

Gilrael looked at him. "I-I suppose I do, actually. I've never tried it before though. It just seemed too powerful."

They were quiet for a moment when Legolas bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Gilrael."

She glanced at him. "What for?"

"I yelled at you and insulted you. I don't know what came over me, and I am deeply sorry."

Gilrael looked away. "You shouldn't be. It was my fault. I started it."

"But surely you are not to blame. Whatever conflict you are fighting must have created such utter turmoil inside that you couldn't help yourself. I, on the other hand, should have been silent and there for you. A friend. Maybe I _did_ spend too much time with Gim-"

"No, Legolas, that's not true."

The Sinda stared at her in astonishment. The elleth sighed. "I should not and will not blame the dwarf for my troubles. He did nothing to me, and I should not hold a grudge against his entire race for what a handful did to me."

She glanced at the ellon, hesitating as she wondered if her choice was the right one. "L-Legolas, I-I don't hate you. I want…I want to be with you again. I want to be your…friend, again. Can you forgive me?"

Legolas wrapped his arms around her shoulders, kissing her soft hair. "I already have, mellon."

She had said _friend_ , not love, but Legolas didn't mind. If he was successful – and he _would_ be successful – that would eventually change. One day she would declare her love back to him, and that was a day Legolas looked forward to, willing to face all hardships in order to live it.

The next morning, as the Elves walked into the camp, they were peppered with questions from all sides. Fortunately, they were spared from answering them as Aragorn urged them all to pack up so they could get an early start off.

But Frodo could not shake the feeling that something was watching him. The Ring grew heavy, and he shuddered as he remembered Gilrael's eyes the previous night. They were dripping with want and pain, and he felt powerless under that almost uncontrollable look in her gaze.

Alas, as he spared a glance at the elleth, nothing was amiss. She was smiling and talking peacefully with both Legolas and Gimli. Frodo glanced to the bushes lining the banks of the Anduin and gasped. A shining pair of green eyes met his, then the creature darted back into the woods. Frodo could have sworn it was an Elf.

* * *

Ithiriel wore a hooded cloak for two reasons: one, to shield her fair elven face, and two, to hide her pointed elven ears. But as she rode into Edoras, it also served to elevate the people's interest in her horse rather than her.

Gwendol had been a gift from the king of Rohan many centuries ago, and overtime she had trained it to become just as proficient as any other elven horse, meaning it lived for lengthy amounts of time and followed her commands by voice.

So it was that the people of Rohan gazed with curiosity at the stranger on such a fine horse, and did not prevent her from entering. Besides, she gave off an aura of power like she knew what she was doing, and that usually helped.

Usually.

Because Grima was 'not intimidated in the least.'

"I don't know _who_ you are," he continued haughtily, "but you certainly have no permission to be here and so you will leave."

Ithiriel nodded towards the king, who was slumped against the throne, not yet fully taken over by Grima's witchcraft, but slowly succumbing to it.

"What does my lord Theoden king say?"

The man shifted slightly, peering at her through weary, dim eyes.

"I…cannot…see you," he croaked, "but…her voice…is fair. Let her…speak."

Grima rolled his eyes, but settled to ask, "Fine then. Who are you?"

"I am known as the Silver Hope to most men, but as Ithiluven to those who care enough to know me."

Grima sniffed. "The name stinks of Elf."

"I do believe that was rude to say to a lady's face."

The servant of Saruman curled his lips in a wicked grin. "Rude, perhaps, for a gentleman, but I am no gentleman. I have, however, heard of you, this _Silver Hope_. The Gondorians love you."

Ithiriel arched an eyebrow. "You say that with contempt."

"Of course I do. I know that you are no Elf. You are just a plain, meddling woman in disguise, pretending to know things, when you are really quite weak and defenceless. Which is why you dare not show your ugly face. Those gullible Gondorians, however, have probably eaten up your story of being a mighty Elf who would stoop down to help us lowly Men."

Ithiriel bristled, but she made no remark.

Grima grinned. "Ah, I see I am right. Well then. What brings you here?"

"I am here because I know who you are, Grima Wormtongue."

The man appeared startled for a moment as she continued, "I know for whom you work, and I know what you are doing to the king."

She spared him a pitying glance before staring sharply at Grima. "And you would do well to leave your master."

Grima snorted. "Now why would I do that? Listen to a mere woman?"

Ithiriel leaned into his face. She knew hers was darkened except for her piercing blue eyes, and she pored all of her anger and hatred into her gaze.

"I am no _mere woman_ , you understand? Have you heard of the Rangers?"

Grima stepped back, shaking slightly. "Why yes, of course. They ride around in the North and never come down here, and last I heard they were cursed."

"Leave Edoras, Grima. Become the noble man you once were. You have children, a wife, who are afraid to see you because of what you have become. Of what Saruman –"

"Do not speak his name," Grima hissed angrily. "And do not speak to me of my…my family. You know nothing of them! You bluff!"

"I assure you, I know them very well," Ithiriel replied smoothly. "They love you very much, but they will be terrified to see this version of you."

"Lies!"

"I'm afraid not. Saruman has corrupted you into a wheedling slave, and if you choose to follow his commands, I warn you that you will get no reward. No money. Saruman has a bad habit of leaving debts unpaid."

Grima suddenly sprang forward in rage, screaming as he wielded a short knife and yelled at the guards to bind her.

But the guards were not quite willing to attack a woman, albeit one who was defending herself against the royal advisor very skilfully. As a result, Ithiriel was able to slip out of the halls of Edoras unharmed, but she mounted Gwendol with a heavy heart. Even more so as her Ring told her of what was happening on the banks of the Anduin.


	13. Chapter 13: Corruption and Division

Tauriel gazed at the three canoes gliding smoothly through the swift-moving river. Her eyes were on the hobbit with curly brown hair, clutching something around his neck. The Ring.

She had seen the creature Gollum following closely, hidden by a log, and his glowing eyes were always rivetted on that particular hobbit. Besides, during the fight of the previous night – which had convinced Tauriel more than anything that Gilrael was a liar and not to be trusted – that hobbit, whom they had called Frodo, had held out said Ring.

Just as Tauriel was about to slink forward, keeping the canoes in sight, she jumped, startled, as a hand touched her shoulder.

To her surprise, the lordly figure of Roquen stood behind her, and he held a finger to his lips.

"We must be quiet. Those Elves have better hearing than I care for."

Almost precisely as he said this, Legolas whipped his head to the bushes, but though his eyes lingered on their hiding spot, he didn't seem to discern them.

Tauriel breathed a sigh of relief as the canoes went out of sight. "What are you doing here Roquen?"

"I am checking on you. What have you observed about Gilrael and Legolas?"

Tauriel bit her lip. "Well, they had a major conflict last night, but they seem to have made up. They seem on very good terms. _Very_."

Roquen raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Has your opinion of them maintained its level?"

The elleth exhaled. "I never thought I would…say this, but I think – I think you might have been right. Gilrael doesn't seem to be what she said she was. I mean, she almost took the Ring last night. I saw her."

Roquen nodded sadly. "Alas, that is true. And even more unfortunate, Legolas is falling into her trap."

Tauriel swallowed. "I know. But it just seems so… _wrong_. I've always trusted them! What about all the times they've helped me? Were so kind to me?"

"A trick," Roquen promptly replied. "If they were mean all the time you wouldn't have fallen for them. Of course, it wasn't always _them_. It was just her, at first, but she slowly took Legolas into her grips. He's quite nearly fully seduced."

"It still feels wrong," Tauriel insisted.

Roquen sighed, but he suddenly stared at her intently. That gaze, so warm, thoughtful, and caring, made Tauriel want to squirm.

"You want to see your mother, don't you?" he finally asked softly.

Tauriel nodded mutely.

"I want you to see her too. You see, I also lost my mother when I was very young, but she is beyond my grasp. You, however, have a chance to see your mother, and I will do anything I can to make it happen. Do you trust me?"

Eru, with that look, there wasn't any _choice_.

"Of course, Roquen."

He smiled, and Tauriel was so lost in his entrancing gaze that she didn't feel him slip a smooth ring onto her finger.

"Lovely. Well, I should not tarry you for long. Go after the Fellowship, and bring me the Ring. If you are successful, I will personally bring you to your mother."

Tauriel nodded as Roquen mounted his waiting black horse, and road off. She didn't notice his gleeful look, nor the fact that her eyes, once bright emerald, were now a sickly shade of green, ever spiralling into blackness. Especially since her thoughts were suddenly wiped with a searing image of the Ring, and the burning desire to find it.

* * *

Aragorn tapped the shoulders of the two hobbits in front of him. "Behold! The Argonath! I have long awaited this moment, to look upon the forefathers of my kin."

The Fellowship looked up in awe at the towering splendour of the Argonath. Two majestic statues, carved out of the mountain, proudly stood on each side of the Anduin. Their left arms were held aloft, palms facing outwards in gesture of warning, and their faces were stern.

The canoes reached the foot of Amon Hen, the Hill of Sight. As they neared the beach of Parth Galen, however, Gilrael noticed that Boromir looked troubled and appeared to be fighting a conflict within him.

 _The Ring is tempting him,_ Gilrael thought.

So when the Fellowship reached the shore and while everyone else was making camp, Gilrael kept a careful eye on the Man of Gondor. When he suddenly disappeared through the trees, and nobody else noticed, Gilrael lost no time and slipped after him.

* * *

Legolas laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Aragorn."

"Not now, Legolas," the man replied, adjusting his dishevelled outfit and overseeing the camp arrangements.

"Aragorn."

"I said, not now."

"Estel, _please_."

"I _said_ -"

"Gilrael's gone. And so is Boromir," he added to Aragorn's astonishment.

"And Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried.

What resulted was utter chaos, which meant everyone was running every which way and after precisely five seconds, Aragorn was standing alone in an abandoned camp. He swallowed, knowing he would regret this, knowing if the Fellowship was separated after this, it would be his fault.

Elbereth, _why_ didn't he listen to Legolas the first time?

* * *

Boromir was not known for his grace, which was why he slid clumsily down the leaf-stricken knolls and ruts of the autumn forest. Unfortunately, he knew full well that hobbits were particularly skilled at walking softly and more gracefully than he could, so it wouldn't be easy to find Frodo.

Find Frodo. Yes, he _had_ to take the Ring then. How many other chances would he get when Frodo was alone? Boromir could outmatch him easily.

As for the Ring, there was no choice. His father had specifically ordered him to retrieve the Ring or not come back at all, and the gnawing feeling of desire was too overwhelming. Obviously, Boromir wouldn't give the Ring to his father once he had it. He would use it himself to bring the enemy away from Gondor for good.

But as he overlooked the forest and caught a glimpse of Frodo fleeing through the forest, something nudged his heart. He remembered what Ithiluven had warned him.

 _That Ring will never be yours, and if you steal it, Boromir, it will result in massive destruction._

 _You underestimate the Ring's power. Once you have it, you will not give it up._

 _You will regret this, Boromir. And you will suffer greatly for it._

Gilrael said something similar.

 _Never underestimate the power of the Ring._

 _It tempts you when you are weakest._

Boromir choked, his heart conflicting and betraying his mind. He tore down the hill and tackled Frodo, gasping and breathing heavily. The words of the elleths echoed in his mind, but they were being drowned out by the enticing whispers of the Ring.

 _Take me._

 _Be a man._

 _Take me._

 _Take me._

Frodo screamed and kicked, squirming and dodging Boromir's attack. But for all of his feistiness, he wouldn't have been able to succeed had not something suddenly grabbed his shoulders and ripped him off the hobbit, who promptly fled.

Boromir writhed and lashed out at this sudden attacker, but he ceased when he felt a cold blade pressed against his neck and sharp fingers grasped his hair.

He panted heavily, eyes staring wide at his attacker as the devouring spell of the Ring was abruptly cut off.

"G-Gilrael, I-I'm so sorry!"

Her gaze was relentless and unforgiving. "Are you certain? If I let you go, how do I know you will not either launch at me or run after Frodo?"

"I won't!" Boromir gasped. "I swear I won't, I'm so stupid, so foolish, I should have listened –"

"Shut up," Gilrael ordered with disgust as she thrust him forward to send him toppling to the ground.

"Honestly, you are disgraceful, to attack a weak halfling like that."

Boromir rose unsteadily. "Is it too late to realize what I have done? To repent?"

Gilrael drew her two long, gleaming swords. "Perhaps not. I fear we have just been ambushed, and your aid would be of much use. Come, Boromir. You may be able to reconcile your wrong after all."

* * *

Legolas ran swiftly through the woods, his alert eyes gazing through the trees sharply as he searched for a certain hobbit. An arrow was nocked and ready on his bow, and though it was considered dangerous and a serious hazard to run with a nocked arrow, Legolas considered himself a good enough professional to ignore the rule this once.

But just as he circled around back to the camp, something flew out at him and tackled him to the ground. Five seconds later the stranger was pinned on the ground with an arrow pointed steadily at her face, but five seconds after that she was quickly helped up with profuse apologies.

"Tauriel, you must forgive me, I did not see you and then my instincts simply took over from there. Are you alright?"

To his astonishment, she only glared at him, brushing off leaves from her tunic which was, he observed, quite ripped to shreds and muddy.

"Am _I_ alright? It's _you_ who is the one who isn't alright."

Legolas blinked. "Did I…miss something? What are you doing here anyway?"

Tauriel picked up one of her arrows. "I'm tracking the Ring."

"Did I hear you right? Did you say the… _Ring_?"

The elleth rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Legolas, for someone who has such _great_ hearing, I'm surprised. _Yes,_ I'm looking for the Ring, and I would have found it had not _you_ interfered."

Legolas frowned. "Tauriel, what has gotten _into_ you? I'm your cousin, remember? I saved your life?"

She snorted. "Unfortunately you were corrupted."

Legolas got a very, very bad feeling about this.

" _I_ was corrupted? Tauriel, don't you see yourself? Why, look at your eyes!"

"What about them?" Tauriel snarled.

"They're not green anymore. They're brown."

"That's absurd."

Legolas bit his lip. "Regardless of whether or not you believe me, something has gotten into you. Who have you met on your travels?"

Tauriel curled her lip. "None of your business."

"Roquen," Legolas promptly answered for her with disbelief. "Tauriel, how _could_ you? He's tricked you in some cruel way!"

" _He's_ going to bring me to my mother, and if I were you, I would come help me and forget about anything Gilrael has told you."

"What?"

"Legolas, Gilrael is a _liar_ ," Tauriel announced. "She's tricking you to obey her to the point where you will not even recognize it."

"Tauriel, I don't believe – "

"See, you won't even listen to me." Tauriel shook her head, turning on her heel. "I feel bad for you, I truly do. But I can't stay with you, not when you're under her influence. I have to find the Ring."

"And do what with it?" Legolas asked as she started to leave.

"Bring it to Roquen!" Tauriel called as she took off through the forest.

A sinking feeling grew in Legolas' stomach, together with a boiling hatred for Roquen. He had…he had… _corrupted_ Legolas' beloved cousin.

Legolas grit his teeth. Just as he would gain Gilrael's love, would he make sure that Roquen suffered for his acts. The Sinda vowed it.

For now, though, he would stop Tauriel from finding Frodo, and hoping that the hobbit had enough sense to get far, far away from there.

* * *

Gilrael didn't know how it happened.

One moment, Boromir was fighting dandily alongside her as they protected Merry and Pippin. The next, he had disappeared from even her peripheral vision.

"Stay close," she ordered the hobbits who had drawn their knives and were trying to help.

They nodded, but Gilrael was suddenly thrown to the ground, her cheek slamming against a rock.

 _That hurt._

But she ignored the blood dribbling down her jawline and whirled around to face her opponent, slashing with her two swords.

It was Lurtz, the leader of the band of orcs, and she knew his name because she could hear his troops yelling it all over the place.

"What are you doing here, Lurtz?" she hissed in Black Speech as she hacked at him relentlessly.

The orc general looked surprised that she knew his name and could speak and understand Black Speech fluently.

"I'm, uh, getting the Ring," he declared, still rather astonished.

"Well, the Ring isn't here," Gilrael announced as she sliced off an ear.

Lurtz bellowed in pain and fury. "Isn't here? Lies! Our sources tell us the halflings have it!"

Gilrael was about to respond when Aragorn suddenly tackled Lurtz from behind and they went tumbling off a cliff.

The elleth whirled back to face the orcs, but for the most part, they had fled. What few remained were swiftly decapacitated by a ferociously chopping ax by a certain dwarf.

 _Where was Merry and Pippin?!_

The world spun for a moment and time slowed as Gilrael took deep breaths, trying to steady her beating heart. The next thing she heard was a gasped, "They took the little ones."

Gilrael turned to the source, and saw a dying Boromir laying on the ground with Aragorn hovering over him, trying to bind his wounds but knowing it was futile.

The Ranger shushed him. "Hold still."

Boromir quickly asked, "Frodo. Where is Frodo?"

"Frodo is…gone. The Ring is beyond our reach now."

Boromir choked in pain and grief, blood trickling on his lips. "Forgive me. I did not see it, I did not heed advice. I have failed you all."

"No, Boromir! You fought bravely. You have kept your honour."

The ranger reached out to pull the arrows from Boromir, but the man grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Leave it! It is over. The world of Men will fall. And all will come to darkness, and my city to ruin."

Aragorn firmly declared, "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail."

Boromir whispered with hope, " _Our_ people?"

Aragorn nodded. "Our people."

The man reached for his sword, but he couldn't grab it. Aragorn placed the hilt in his hand, and Boromir clasped it to his chest.

Boromir strongly said, "I would have followed you, my brother… My captain…. My king…." The man breathed his last, contented.

Aragorn touched his hand to his forehead, then to his lips in respect. He whispered, "Be at peace, son of Gondor."

The Ranger stood, gazing into the forest with a tear running down his face, and sadly said, "They will look for his coming from the White Tower. But he will not return."

He glanced at Gimli and Gilrael. "The others?"

Just then, Legolas ran up. His face was neutral, but to those who knew him most, he was troubled.

"Sam crossed with Frodo. I saw them off myself."

He didn't add the fact that he had to wrestle with Tauriel to give them enough time, nor that she had eventually slipped away, to follow them, no doubt.

Aragorn pursed his lips. "It cannot be helped. Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands."

Together, they carried Boromir to rest in one of the canoes. His sword rested with him, his shield above his head and his cloven horn at his side. The boat slipped over the falls of Rauros and then dropped into the mists below.

The remnant of the Fellowship watched it with sorrow, and then they sang a solemn hymn for Boromir, son of Gondor.

As the last notes died, Gimli exhaled wearily. "It has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed."

They trudged to wear Aragorn was binding his arm. The Ranger's expression was a mix between a grimace and a smile. "Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death while we have strength left. We travel only with what is necessary."

It was quick work gathering what few materials they needed, and they soon reached the glade where Boromir had died. From there, they picked up the orc's trail. It needed very little skill to find.

"No other folk make such a trampling," Legolas bemoaned, feeling the pain of the trees and bushes. "It seems their delight to slash and beat down growing things that are not even in their way."

Aragorn nodded. "But they go with a great speed for all that, and they do not tire. And later we may have to search for our path in hard bare lands."

"Well, after them!" growled Gimli. "Dwarves can go swiftly too, and they don't tire sooner than Orcs. But it will be a long chase, because they have a big head start."

"Yes," said Aragorn, "we shall all need the endurance of Dwarves. But come! With hope or without hope we will follow the trail of our enemies. And woe to them, if we prove the swifter! We will make such a chase as shall be accounted a marvel among the Three Kindreds: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Forth the Four Hunters!"

They followed the trail to the end of the forest, where plains stretched far in front of them. But suddenly, Gilrael noticed a letter attached to a tree with an arrow.

"Wait!"

The three others drew to a stop and hurried to her side as Gilrael undid the arrow and opened the letter. She started to read silently, but Gimli bellowed, "Read it so we all can hear!"

Feeling compliant, Gilrael started over.

 _My darling love Gilrael,_

 _Frodo may have escaped beyond your reach, but that still does not mean you cannot help me. Seek out Isengard. Saruman will welcome you heartily there, and you will be safely escorted to Mordor. Do not follow the ranger. Look how he managed to divide the Fellowship to ruin. If you continue to follow him, you will face many more deaths and injuries. I want you to avoid that. Come, join with me, where you will no longer be a follower, but a leader. The queen of Middle Earth._

 _Your dearest friend,_

 _With all my love and affection,_

 _Sauron the Dark Lord._

Legolas frowned. "Since when does Sauron have a 'my darling love,' a 'dearest friend', or show any sort of love and affection?"

Gilrael folded the paper and stuck it in her tunic. "Reasons," she answered evasively.

Gimli crossed his arms. "And you just forgot to mention this to us?"

"I did not see a good opportunity, nor a good reason."

Aragorn peered at her. "He speaks to you in your mind, doesn't he?"

Gilrael nodded numbly. "But I would never join him. Ever. I swear."

The Ranger sighed. "Standing her meditating over the matter will not get us anywhere. We must leave immediately. Those orcs are not going to wait for us."

But as they ran off, Legolas made sure to stay by Gilrael's side.

"The note troubles you," he announced in Sindarin, far enough away from Aragorn that their conversation was private.

Gilrael bit her lip. "Of course it does. Sauron is trying to convince me to join his cause."

"Why would he do that? What use would you be?"

"Much use, I'm afraid, and if not that, I wouldn't be able to weaken him."

To answer Legolas' puzzled face, Gilrael elaborated, "I know much of his plans and schemes. If I were to use them against him, it would be a hard blow. But no matter. I will _not_ join him, no matter what he does to anyone I care about."

She shot a suggestive look in the Sinda's direction before racing off towards Aragorn, leaving Legolas with a tiny shred of hope.


	14. Chapter 14: Drama on the Plains of Rohan

Gilrael had never done anything more boringly tedious in her life.

Doing nothing but run for days and days straight through identical plains surpassed even her time in captivity where Sauron had forced her to scrub clean thousands of sets of orc armour or the time he had forced her to scrub clean the thousands of stairs of Barad Dur or the time…well, you get the point. Running was _excruciatingly_ boring.

Worse, she didn't have anyone to talk to because, far in the distance, Legolas was leaping along merrily like a gazelle, claiming the run was ' _exhilarating_ ,' while Aragorn was consumed in throwing himself face first onto the ground every few minutes and claiming, among other more poetic things, that he could hear the orcs' quickening pace. At that, Gilrael always rolled her eyes. They weren't _that_ loud.

As for Gimli, for all his panting and flushed face, he still managed – in between his heavy breaths – to bemoan the soreness of every muscle fibre in his body and inform nobody in particular about the natural talent of dwarven sprinters. Still, Gilrael had to admit that the dwarf possessed a copious amount of endurance.

But as they ran (or sprinted or jogged or stumbled, depending on the person) into Rohan, the Four Hunters gathered on top of a rocky outcrop, gazing into the distance, where not a sign of the orcs could be seen.

Aragorn muttered something about 'evil', 'speed', 'creatures' and 'tired' while Legolas narrowed his eyes, peering into the distance.

"I see something!"

Gilrael leaped onto the rock next to him, but could see nothing.

"Well tell us _what_ you see, don't just announce it!" Gimli commanded, wishing for the first (and last) time in his life that he had the physique of an Elf.

"I see…the orcs. Yes, the orcs. They're turning, hmm, northwest? No, north _east_ , they seemed to be a bit confused. Ah, they're headed towards Isengard!"

"You can see all that?" Gilrael muttered, not convinced, because even with _her_ elven eyes she could see nothing of the sort.

"Yes, I can, and I can also see you are _jealous_."

Gilrael rolled her eyes, but Aragorn had already started running again.

"We must waste no time! If they take the hobbits to Saruman we'll be hard-pressed to rescue them!"

But as dusk turned to night, Ranger and Dwarf started to lag. Legolas and Gilrael exchanged a look, and they halted in a grassy vista.

"You need to rest," Legolas announced as Aragorn stumbled up to them.

Predictably, the man protested, and soon he and the Sinda were arguing.

As Gimli dragged his feet up to them, Gilrael told him, "We're resting for the night."

Predictably, the dwarf collapsed into a sleeping pile.

Eventually, however, Legolas succeeded in wearing Aragorn out, and the Ranger reluctantly pulled out his bedroll.

"But you wake us at dawn," he warned, "or else."

The Elves agreed, and soon he too was fast asleep.

* * *

Legolas and Gilrael lay on the soft grass side by side, gazing up at the stars in contented silence, when the ellon broke it with a softly spoken question.

"What was it like, living in Mordor?"

Legolas had often posed this question to her on many occasions, but she had always glared at him and given him the cold shoulder. That night, however, seemed different.

The Sinda was right, because after a moment's thought, Gilrael answered in a barely audible whisper, "I rarely saw the blue skies of day. Only black, rolling clouds, the air filled with smoke and ash. I never felt the fresh breeze of wind, nor the warmth of the sun. It was so sickening. I might have gone mad."

"You never once saw the stars?"

Gilrael exhaled sadly. "No, never. Well, sometimes when they moved me from prison to prison, I would catch a glimpse of the sun, green trees, and stars. I longed for nature, but they never allowed me any freedom."

She paused, glancing to the side where Legolas was now propped up on an elbow, staring at her intensely.

The elleth's eyes filled with tears. "Th-they had me go on raiding trips, all throughout the land. I plundered innocent villages, destroyed crops, burnt down whole cities. Especially in…Rohan. That is why I fear if we meet them, which we probably will, they will hate me for what I did to them in my ignorance and corruption. And I never once was able to apologize, not that it would have been enough."

As tears slowly rolled down her cheeks, Legolas' heart broke with pity and sympathy, wishing he could do something to comfort her, but knowing full well it would be pointless. She would hurt even more. So he made sure that his hard expression never wavered, watching her carefully for any sign that he could do anything.

Suddenly, Gilrael sat up, staring at him so intently that he did the same.

"What is it?"

The elleth's eyes still shone with her tears, but they were also full of determination.

"Legolas, do you have any idea how important this war is?"

The Sinda frowned. "What do you mean? Other than destroying the Ring to save Middle Earth?"

Her eyes blazed as she stared at the dark plains of Rohan stretching out into the night. "There is more at stake here than you realize. We _must_ win, you understand? We _cannot_ let Sauron emerge victorious. I-I don't know what I would do if w-we lost."

Suddenly, she shot him a look, a powerful one filled with a strange mixture of deep affection and pain, that made Legolas' heart spill over with aching love and helplessness. He felt his insides would melt, and he feared he was visibly trembling.

"G-Gilrael, I don't under-"

" _Do not_ let Sauron win, Legolas," she ordered, still staring at him with that strange, passionate gaze. "You must promise me this."

Legolas swallowed, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that such a promise was a foolish and impulsive one. But the look her eyes, those beautiful deer-like eyes, like her living soul burned for _him_ …only with a very large barrier in the way, that tinged his throbbing heart with ice.

"I promise," he finally declared, "that I will do everything in my power to make sure we defeat him."

Gilrael's gaze softened, and the Sinda found he could breathe again. Those eyes were dangerous, he knew, but then again, that was why he loved them.

Legolas stared at her deeply. "What troubles you?"

To his utter astonishment, she responded with by leaning her head on his shoulder, staring up at him with a slight smile.

"Nothing yet, Legolas. Nothing yet."

Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her soft, warm body close to his. Their scents of distant pine and cedar mixed with the fresh air of the night, and Legolas felt that nothing could be more peaceful in that moment.

The Sinda's skin tingled as her slender hand gently brushed his cheek, her back resting comfortably onto his chest.

"Don't ever leave me," she whispered, gazing up at him solemnly.

Legolas smiled, kissing her softly on her smooth forehead.

"Never, Ilweranael. Never."

* * *

Ithiriel was not in a good mood.

Grima had proved more irritatingly difficult than she had thought. Saruman had the man entirely in his grips and, as a result, the nation of Rohan as well. Nothing could be done to heal Theoden, at least not by her. Ithiriel knew very well the times to use her Ring, and that was not one of them.

But on the way back to Minas Tirith, where she would try to hold off an impending attack from the enemy, a most ill-timed and inconvenient band of Orcs had delayed her. And those were no ordinary Orcs. Those were Uruk Hai, spawn of Saruman.

Really, did the White Wizard have to meddle _everywhere_?

Ithiriel would have skirted around them with no trouble if not for two things: One, they were traveling during the day, a most unusual practise, and two, they had halfling captives.

The elleth had discovered the latter when she decided to follow them, noticing the two hobbits being tossed about like useless sacks of flesh.

 _What could Uruk Hai possibly want from two hobbits?_ she often wondered as she followed them at a discrete distance, her Elven eyes allowing that to be a very easy task. _Neither of them is the Ring-bearer._

 _Her_ Ring told Ithiriel as much. No, the real Ring-bearer was far of, somewhere around Emyn Muil. And why the rush? Ithiriel had never seen any Orc so motivated to run at such a speed. What could it possibly mean?

All the questions spurred her to follow through the afternoon and into the evening. They made camp at the edge of Fangorn Forest, a most unwise choice, Ithiriel thought.

The elleth noiselessly manoeuvred Gwendol into the forest, where she slipped off and ordered her horse to keep still. Then Ithiriel crept soundlessly towards the edge and swung onto a tree, sitting hidden on a branch with a very good view of the meagre camp.

Ithiriel knew enough Black Speech to finally understand what was going on. Along with a lack of food, the Uruks had captured the hobbits for Saruman, thinking that one of them might have the Ring. They were going to bring the halflings to the wizard so that he could, obviously, take said Ring. Unfortunately, the Uruks were, of course, mistaken, and Ithiriel shuddered to think of what would happen to them.

In the meantime, however, it certainly wouldn't do to leave the poor hobbits all tied up, much less under the ruthless mercy of Saruman, Ithiriel's least favourite wizard.

But just as she pulled her bow out and was about to fire into the crowd of currently bickering orcs, her sharp Elven ears heard the strangled neigh of her horse.

Ithiriel froze, her eyes darting between the hobbits and the forest. Gwendol was in danger, she knew, but then again, so were the hobbits. Which would she save first?

Not a second was lost as the Elf dropped to the ground and dashed into the forest. She could make sure Gwendol was safe and return to save the hobbits in time, couldn't she?

But that, of course, was not at all how things worked out.

* * *

To be honest, the Elves didn't _mean_ to forget about Aragorn, Gimli, and the time, but it happened nonetheless. They were, after all, Elves, who easily lost track of time.

So it was that they were faced with two angry, albeit fully rested, mortals, the light of day streaming onto everyone's faces.

"What part of _dawn_ do you two not understand?" Aragorn demanded.

"And you must have no consideration as to my back!" Gimli huffed indignantly. "On rocks, the whole night, and you never once cared to look?"

Legolas and Gilrael exchanged amused glances. "We certainly apologise."

"Argh!" dwarf and man exclaimed, and then they took off running with renewed energy.

But it was not to last for long, because this time, a bit later than noon, Gilrael heard something.

"I hear something," she announced.

Legolas started visibly, but once again, Gimli huffed, "Well tell us _what_ you hear, don't just announce it!"

"I hear…hooves. Much tramping and pounding. Seems to be a group of about twenty, oh, seven or so."

"You can hear all that?" Legolas muttered, not convinced, because even with _his_ elven ears he could hear nothing of the sort.

Gilrael smiled smugly. "Yes, I can, and I can also hear your _jealousy_ rolling off of you."

Legolas rolled his eyes and was about to respond, but Aragorn shushed them. "No time for arguing! These are Riders of Rohan, and we must convince them that we are friends, not foes. Dark days are upon us, and they cannot trust everyone at first glance."

Gilrael's face grew solemn, and she didn't meet the others' gaze. _Trust._ What a precious thing, a precious thing that she did not have with the people of Rohan.

As the horsemen passed, Aragorn called out, "Riders of Rohan! What news from the mark?"

They turned and circled around, surrounding the four and pointing at them with their bristling spears.

The leader of the horsemen gave them one look before announcing, "You go no further. Turn back now and you might be spared."

Gilrael's three companions were bewildered, but she stepped forward boldly.

"I assure you, my lord, that you are mistaken."

The leader snorted. "What mistake is there to see, Glurdag? I see you are dressed a bit nicer, and might have cleaned up a bit, but you are the general of Mordor nonetheless, and I should have you killed immediately."

The three others were opening their mouths to retort when Gilrael raised a hand. "This is my fault, and I must resolve it myself. Lord Eomer-"

"Dare you say that to my face," the man growled.

"- I have not stepped foot in Rohan as Glurdag in a thousand years. I have repented of my wicked deeds long ago, and I am here to reverse them as best as we can."

Eomer glaring at her through his helmet. "Not stepped foot in a thousand years, you say? Well I happen to know that you killed my mother, or do my eyes fail me?"

He suddenly thrust a parchment into her face, ignoring the icy blue glare of the Sinda, the hot, angry glare of the Dwarf, and livid look in the Ranger's face.

Gilrael took it slowly but read it quickly. She groaned inwardly, recognizing the handwriting. Roquen.

"My lord, there is a serious misunderstanding – "

"How am I to trust you?" Eomer interrupted angrily. "You burned our crops, you slayed our people, you even _admit_ in your little _note_ that you killed my _mother_! How do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't," Gilrael responded quietly.

Eomer started as she continued, "But I know that you are not a hard-hearted man, and that you are quick to forgive. Only actions will show my true intentions, but for now, you must accept these words. Every day I _grieve_ what I did to your people, and the peoples of all the other nations that I wronged. If I could I would go back and change it all, I would, but since that is impossible, I will settle with doing what I can here and now. My companions, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Gimli son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm are here to help your people in these dark times. Will you accept us?"

Eomer seemed to weigh his options for a while, eyeing her and her three companions carefully. Then he slowly took of his helmet, and his men raised their spears.

"It may be a trick, but my heart tells me you are truthful. You will, however, find not much aid in Edoras, I fear. Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin."

"He banished you?" Aragorn asked incredulously while Gilrael stepped back next to the other two.

Éomer nodded grimly. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King and claimed lordship over his lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan, and for that we are banished. The white wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked, and everywhere his spies slip past our nets." He glanced pointedly at Gilrael.

"We are no spies," Aragorn assured him. "We track a party of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive."

Éomer arched an eyebrow. "The Uruks are destroyed, we slaughtered them during the night."

Gimli protested, "But there were two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn clarified.

Éomer pursed his lips. "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them. However," he added, a sliver of hope sparking in the Four Hunter's hears, "there was curious business going on there. Everything about it was strange. The trees, it seemed like they were moving. I felt constantly watched. If your friends are alive, if they managed to escape, I would look in the forest, but be warned that you may not find them. Fangorn Forest is generally known to be quite treacherous, and hope has forsaken these lands."

And with that warning, he whistled and three horses stepped forward, one sorrel, white, and a golden tan.

"We have three horses to gift you, Hasufel, Arod, and Belegroch. May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters, and that you may help us find peace and these troubling times. Farewell."

The riders followed Éomer off, leaving the four alone. Aragorn mounted Hasufel, Legolas and Gimli rode Arod, and Gilrael agilely lifted herself onto Belegroch.

"So we're bound for Fangorn then?" Gimli called from his seat behind the Elven Prince.

Aragorn nodded. "Aye. It is our only hope."

"Must be serious madness to drive them in there," the dwarf remarked as the rode up to the edge of the dark, dense tangle of forest.

"Not madness," Legolas replied dreamily, gazing at the trees. "A need for shelter, perhaps."

"Or the only place to go," Gilrael offered practically as they dismounted, all of them ignoring the burning pile of orc carcasses smouldering in foul fumes.

Aragorn nodded. "We will set up camp, and start hiking through the forest in the morning. Let's build a fire."

Gimli hefted his axe and was about to go for the trees, but Legolas quickly pulled back his arm.

"Do not harm the trees," Legolas solemnly declared. "They will get their revenge."

Of course, Gimli thought that was ridiculous. "I know you really love trees and all that, but chopping one down for wood isn't going to really harm them."

Legolas shot him a deadly serious look, then suddenly shrugged flippantly. "If you wish to find yourself dead or otherwise severely impaired by tomorrow, go on ahead. But do not say we didn't warn you."

Gimli gave one look toward the groaning trees, and one look at the fierce Elf, then rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll gather branches or something, but it won't be as nice."

Fortunately, since he was a dwarf, they soon had a nice, roaring fire regardless of the 'less than ideal materials.'

After a brief meal of lembas bread (again) Gimli volunteered to take first watch. "I'm not tired in the least, since _someone_ forgot to wake us up this morning."

He glared pointedly at the Elves before continuing, "Aragorn is practically already asleep because he wastes too much energy, and Legolas has been watching every night since we started this quest. It's my turn now."

"What about me?" Gilrael protested. "I can watch."

"You're a lady," Gimli announced, as if that mattered.

Legolas looked doubtful. "Are you sure? You need the rest."

Gimli tossed his hand dismissively. "It's alright. Besides, you need the rest as well."

The Sinda was still uncertain. "Not as much as you do."

However, when the Elves saw how stubborn and unrelenting the dwarf was, and knew that it wouldn't do much harm, they relented.

"But on one condition," Gilrael warned. "Do not get distracted, and above all, do not fall asleep!"

Aragorn quickly said, "And don't forget that _dawn_ is when the sun rises." He shot another pointed glare at the Elves before throwing himself onto the ground in a deep, instantaneous slumber.

Soon, all was quiet.

It stayed that way for hours, and Gimli perched himself on top of a stray boulder, eyes and ears alert. But the intense cross-country run had an affect on him. The dwarf stubbornly blinked.

 _Stay up, Gimli,_ he ordered himself. _Don't let those durned Elves outdo you. And if you fall asleep, you'll be the laughingstock._

No matter how much he muttered this, however, the peaceful setting of quietly sleeping horses, the swaying grass, and the twinkling stars made his eyes start to droop. Eventually, his head nodded forward, and he started snoring, fast asleep.

Until the sound of horses neighing shattered the stillness of the night, and the Four Hunters woke to the animals being led off by a thin cloaked figure, disappearing from sight.


	15. Chapter 15: Perplexity in Fangorn Forest

"I could have sworn that he wore a quiver!" Gilrael insisted.

"But you don't have as good eyesight as I do," Legolas pointed out, "and I saw no quiver."

"That's because I have better eyesight in the _dark_."

The Four Hunters were trying to determine the identity of the horse-thief, and so far, their opinions were polar-opposites.

"I believe it was Saruman," Aragorn opined, "because Eomer said he was an old man who wandered around dressed in a grey hood and cloak."

"That's impossible," the Elves countered in unison.

"The stranger was dressed in a black hood and cloak," Legolas explained, "and was much slenderer."

" _And_ he carried a quiver," Gilrael added, to the controversy of the others. "Saruman carries no quiver."

" _I_ personally believe it was an ordinary horse thief," Gimli piped up. "What interest could either Saruman or a mysterious stranger have in our horses if not to simply steal them? They _are_ very fine horses of Rohan. Anyone might covet them."

Of course, this argument resulted in nothing, until something suddenly dawned on Aragorn.

"You Elves should have heard the horses long before they were taken. Did you not hear them?"

Gilrael, being the superior listener of the two, replied for them. "I _did_ hear some neighing, but I thought Gimli was tending to the horses. They neighed like they were greeting a friend, not like they were being kidnapped."

Legolas muttered something in agreement.

"What a puzzle!" Gimli exclaimed.

Aragorn sighed. "Indeed. But either way, I don't believe it matters much. We couldn't have brought the horses into the forest, because the dense tangle does not allow for it."

He nodded to the slowly brightening skies. "Almost dawn. We might as well start on our way."

They plunged into the dark forest. Aragorn softly ordered, "Do not deviate off the path. It is easy to get lost in here."

Gimli snorted. "Path? What path? I see no path!"

"There _is_ a path," the Ranger insisted. "And there are also tracks."

He knelt and gently brushed his fingers over large, scraped markings on the floor. "Strange ones," he added, perplexed.

"No stranger than the forest itself," Legolas murmured, gazing in reverence at the grand boughs and mossy branches. "It is very old. Full of memory, and…anger. And deep pain. I do not understand it."

The trees creaked, rumbled, and groaned, the noise echoing through the forest. "They are speaking to each other!" Legolas exulted. "I wonder what they say?"

"I don't," stated Gimli, wiping sweat from his brow. "Probably some nonsense, likely as not, as a result of the humidity. We dwarves prefer the cool dryness of underground caves."

"And the rest of us would prefer it if you lowered your axe," Aragorn ordered. The dwarf had raised it unconsciously, and now lowered it reluctantly.

Legolas smiled at him. "They have feelings, Gimli, strong, opposing ones to axes."

Gimli huffed. "Well I'm _not_ going to cut them down. _When_ did trees start talking, exactly?"

The Sindarin Elf fingered the gnarled trunks tenderly. "Long, long ago, the elves began it, awakening the trees. We taught them how to speak, and we learned how to understand their spirits. I can feel it even now."

Gimli rolled his eyes. "Pfft. Elvish nonsense. And what about you, Gilrael? You don't look as entranced as your bewitched kinsman over here."

The elleth had largely ignored their conversation for two very good reasons. One, she never had a very strong connection with the trees, being raised almost entirely in the wasteland of Mordor, and two, she currently felt a very strong connection with…power.

"Do you not feel it, Legolas?" Gilrael whispered, her eyes darting about. "Nad no ennas!"

The Sinda was too wrapped up in examining a twisted vine, but Aragorn furrowed his brow, staring at the ground.

"It's almost indiscernible, but judging from my ability to make it out, he must have been running," the Ranger announced, deep in thought. "These are the tracks of an Elf."

Gimli snorted. "Yes, laddie, there are two of them."

"No, no, not those two. Another Elf, with an elven horse. Is that what's out there?"

Gilrael shook her head, still peering out into the distance. "I sense a force more powerful than an Elf's. Legolas, it would really help if you paid us some attention. The trees can wait."

The ellon looked as disappointed as a candy taken away from a child, but he complied nonetheless. Immediately, a frown crossed his face as his sharp blue eyes scanned the forest.

"Well?" Gimli demanded.

Legolas silently held a finger to his lips.

"What do you see?" Gilrael whispered. She felt a presence, but she could not pinpoint it.

The Sinda's voice was soft and deep. "The white wizard approaches." He nodded vaguely to the north-west.

"Do not let him speak," Gilrael ordered. "He will put a spell on us."

Aragorn drew his sword. "Then we must be quick."

Gimli lifted his axe while Legolas nocked an arrow. Gilrael pulled her two swords out, swallowing hard. If it was Saruman…it must be. There was no other logical choice. But then that meant…no, she mustn't think of it.

All at once, the Four Hunters turned and let loose their weapons, all to no avail, for as a great, spontaneous flash of white light emitted forth, their weapons were flung to the side. They had no choice but to back away, covering their eyes from the blazing white figure.

He proclaimed in a voice that sounded very much like Saruman's, "You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits."

"Where are they?" Aragorn demanded desperately, trying to forcefully blink away the brightness.

"They passed this way, day before yesterday," the figure indulgently answered. "They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you?" Gilrael ordered. "Show yourself!"

Gradually, the light faded, and the four companions sucked in an astonished breath. For standing right in front of them was the kindly sight of Gandalf the Grey, only he was no longer Grey, but dressed in a shining white robe.

Of course, in all likelihood, you already knew that. And you probably also know how the wizard fell through fire and water etc. etc. and fought the Balrog of Morgoth until he threw down the enemy and smote his ruin on the mountainside etc. etc. and how he was sent back to complete his task etc. etc.

So I will skip that part and the Four Hunter's reactions, and tell you about something you don't know.

* * *

Ithiriel felt as stupid and as far-sighted as a blind-folded ostrich. After she raced back through the forest to the clearing where she had left Gwendol, the elleth immediately saw the reason for her horse's 'strangled' neigh. Turns out Gwendol wasn't in any sort of danger, and had uttered the strange neigh because the horse was very surprised.

It was understandable, since Ithiriel herself was astonished. There, cloaked in a grey mantle that covered shiny white garments underneath, was Mithrandir, otherwise known as Gandalf the Grey. Or maybe it was White now?

The reason why she felt stupid and blind was because her Ring usually told her things like that in advance, and in that instance it was quite silent. So much for the 'most powerful of the Four Elven Rings of Power.'

But of course, he couldn't know that. Gandalf knew many things, but he did not know her true identity, nor her Ring.

"Mithrandir, I must say, I did not expect you here," she remarked smoothly, her steady voice not betraying her lingering surprise, which might be why all thoughts of the two captive hobbits suddenly vanished.

The wizard smiled. "Nor I, you. But while you _are_ here, you might as well do a favour for me."

Ithiriel steadied her horse, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Gandalf shrugged. "There is a group of four travellers tracking the two young hobbits. I need you to lure them into the forest."

"The hobbits! I need to-"

"No need, Ithiluven," the wizard interrupted. "A band of riders from Rohan have just arrived, I believe, and the little ones are quick-witted. They will be safe."

Ithiriel frowned. "Then why do I need to lure those four travellers into the forest?"

"Reasons," replied Gandalf vaguely. "What can I say? I'm a wizard. I must be puzzling."

Ithiriel did not deign to even crack a smile. She bowed slightly. "I am at your service, especially since you have returned from the dead, it seems, last I heard. Very well. I will…make _sure_ the four travellers come into the forest as promptly as possible."

Gandalf smiled. "I am ever in your debt, Ithiluven. Thank you."

Ithiriel nodded then turned, leading her horse away. When she looked back again, the wizard was gone.

* * *

When she reached the edge of Fangorn Forest and saw who exactly the four travellers were, she cursed her Ring for the second time. _Why_ did it think that their identities were not important for her to know? It changed everything! What was _he_ doing there?

Ithiriel shook her head. It wasn't her business. He was free to do whatever he wanted, travel wherever he wanted. Only, it _was_ her business, in a way.

The elleth scowled. First, she would do what Mithrandir requested. Then, she would see what she could do about her recently faulty Ring. Finally, she would make haste to Minas Tirith and get far, _far_ away from…him.

Eru, she didn't think she would see him again so soon!

In the meantime, however, it was clear what she had to do to lure the four into the forest as quickly as possible. Take the horses, which would wake them up, and cause them to start off early.

That was an easy thing to do, and once she handed them off to an awaiting Gandalf, Ithiriel mounted her own horse and sped away towards Gondor.

* * *

By Elbereth, was he _annoying_! 'Precious' this and 'precious' that with an occasional, 'we wants it!' and 'it burnsss usss!'

Tauriel barely refrained from shooting an arrow through its skinny neck as she followed the nasty little creature who was, in turn, being dragged on a rope by the hobbit named Sam.

"I swear, Mr. Frodo, all of Mordor will hear us before we even _see_ it!" said hobbit complained. "Why can't we tie 'im to a rock or something?"

"No!" Gollum interjected. "That'll kill us, _kill_ usss!"

The weary Ring-bearer turned around with a glazed look in his eyes. "He's right, Sam. It'll kill him."

" _Why_ are we keeping him, again?"

Frodo seemed to think for a moment before responding, "There's nothing else to do with him, I suppose."

"Yes there is!" Gollum announced. "Set us free, _pleeease_ precious!"

"I've a mind to slice his neck!" Sam snapped.

"Ack! No! No!" shrieked Gollum as he tried to scuttle away from the hobbit's grabbing hands.

"Don't, Sam!" Frodo exclaimed, pulling his friend off of the creature. "What right do we have to end his life?"

"Yes, yes, exactly!" echoed Gollum as he cowered behind a boulder. "Don't kill us, precious!"

Tauriel grit her teeth as she watched the little scene from the top of the ravine which they were trudging through. If he said another precious…argh, she was afraid _she_ might slice his neck!

An unconscious thought flashed through her mind. There once was a day, not far off, when she would have cringed to think of killing a living being so rashly. When had the change happened?

But as quickly as it came, it left.

Tauriel watched as the hobbits came to an agreement, allowing Gollum to act as their guide to Mordor.

 _Perfect,_ she thought. He would lead them on the right path into Mordor, and Tauriel would follow. Once they were alone in those dark lands, Tauriel would separate Frodo and kidnap him, bringing him, and the Ring he carried, to Roquen. Then she would get her mother back and they could sail West, to be reunited with her father and brother.

It _was_ a perfect plan, if only she knew the trap she had fallen into.

* * *

"One stage of your journey is over, another begins. War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed."

The Four Hunters walked behind Gandalf, still surprised at his miraculous reappearance. Gimli, however, was more surprised at his most recent statement.

"Edoras? That is no short distance!"

"Indeed, it is not, but we have Rohinion steeds." They had reached the edge of the forest and were amazed to see their three horses emerge with them.

"But weren't they stolen?" Gilrael asked.

Gandalf smiled knowingly. "I would not say stolen, for they are here, are they not?"

He suddenly whistled loud and long, and the travellers caught sight of a white horse galloping towards them, its long golden mane blowing in the wind.

"That is one of the mearas!" Legolas exclaimed. "How came you by such a fine horse?"

Gandalf smiled, gently brushing his fingers through the horse's mane as it cantered up. "Shadowfax. Lord of all horses, and my friend through many dangers. He was a gift from Theoden King."

Aragorn's expression darkened from his mount on Hasufel. "We hear ill of him and Rohan."

Gandalf nodded solemnly. "And it will not be easy to reverse it, but we will do what we can."

But before they rode away, Gimli asked anxiously, "What of the hobbits? Are they safe?"

The wizard smiled warmly, a twinkle in his grey eyes. "A thing is about to happen here that has not happened since the Elder Days. The Ents, Shepherds of the Forest, are going to wake up … and find that they are strong."

"The Ents!" Legolas exclaimed jubilantly. "So the legends are true?"

"Very true, my young Elf. But don't go dashing in again just yet. There is still quite a ways to go. As for you, Master Dwarf, you may stop your fretting. Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be."

With that, he swung onto Shadowfax and with a cheerful cry, took off onto the plains.

"This new Gandalf is grumpier than the old one," Gimli muttered as he clung to Legolas' stomach while they galloped after the wizard.

On Gilrael's part, she was relieved that an audience with Saruman the White was postponed with the reappearance of Gandalf, but she was by no means at ease. They were headed for Edoras, to meet Theoden king, who would surely not welcome her for her past offenses while she was under corruption.

And _that_ was if they could somehow get rid of the crawling servant of Saruman who had poisoned the mind of the king. Gilrael knew it would be no easy task.


	16. Chapter 16: Edoras and the Golden Hall

Tauriel had forgotten one very important thing in her so-called 'perfect' plan: she knew next to nothing about Mordor.

Of course, she knew that it was dark and barren and so forth, but she had no idea how to get in, and no idea of what she would find on the inside. Assuming Tauriel crossed the border safely, how exactly was she supposed to find Roquen in the vast expanse of enemy territory?

She shook the thought from her mind. First, she would focus on getting into Mordor, and kidnapping Frodo. Then she would figure out how to get him and the Ring he carried to Roquen.

* * *

Night fell once more. Gandalf and Aragorn were speaking in hushed tones while Gimli and Legolas slept, but Gilrael was wide awake, vaguely listening to the quiet conversation and mainly wrapped up in her own thoughts as she lay with her back to the others, pretending to sleep.

It was the first time since two nights past when she had made up her mind about her…situation. The only sliver of hope she possessed, her only chance at having a life of joy and peace she always longed for, was to make sure Sauron was defeated and destroyed once and for all.

But until then, Gilrael decided, she wouldn't quite act so aloof with Legolas. Surely no harm could come from that, even if she was _more_ than just friendly. Besides, being so separate from him in spirit tore her soul apart. She didn't know what she would do if Legolas hadn't accompanied her on the quest.

Suddenly, something Gandalf said made her prick her ears in interest.

"Sauron fears you, Aragorn. You are his one source of doubt, an unpredictable piece in a puzzle. He fears what you may become. And so he'll strike hard and fast at the world of Men. War is coming. Rohan must defend itself, and therein lies our first challenge, for Rohan is weak and ready to fall. The king's mind is enslaved. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong. The enemy is tightening the noose."

Gilrael bit her lip. The king's mind? Enslaved by Saruman? It meant disaster. It meant that the White wizard had a servant in Rohan, one that had woven the spell over the king. Unfortunately, Gilrael knew exactly what the spell entailed, and she knew it would not be easy to reverse it.

"But for all their cunning we have one advantage," Gandalf continued. "For now, the Ring remains hidden. And that we should seek to destroy it has not yet entered their darkest dreams."

Gilrael stared out through the night, watching the grass sway in the wind. The enemy had not thought of it yet, but if Sauron kept prying at her mind, she wasn't sure if she could stay strong.

The elleth jumped, startled, as a hand lightly brushed the tips of her ears. Legolas was laying behind her, and his voice was low and barely audible.

"You can and will stay strong, Gilrael," he whispered, fingers still trailing her face. "I have faith in you."

Gilrael's skin tingled where Legolas touched her, but he only kissed her shoulder gently and rolled away. She missed the warmth of his body wrapping around her back, the feeling of being protected against all the outside forces that had continuously harmed her.

But Gilrael knew that, although Gandalf and Aragorn had finished speaking and they would not be noticed, she could not be even remotely intimate with Legolas until the War was over and her past was wiped clean. Oh, how she longed for that day!

* * *

Tauriel crouched behind a boulder some ways behind the trio she had been tracking, but for once her attention was not on them. It was on the menacing Black Gates stretching out between two mountains before her, the entrance into Mordor.

The elleth shivered involuntarily at the patrolling orcs and trolls guarding it. How, exactly, were they supposed to get through? Surely they would be shot down instantly, if not captured and brought inside as prisoners. Tauriel couldn't bear to think of what would happen to her, being an Elf and all.

Sam was having similar thoughts. "That's it then. We can't get past that."

Tauriel widened her eyes as she suddenly caught a glimpse of an army of Easterling soldiers marching to the Black Gate from far below, commanders screaming and horns sounding their arrival.

But just then, a hand grabbed her shoulder, and she whirled around with a gasp. It was Roquen. Again.

She exhaled slowly. "You really ought to stop startling me like that."

As usual, he ignored her. As the ellon crouched next to her, his deep brown eyes surveyed the marching army and the terrifying sight of the Black Gate's battlements with casual interest.

"What do you think, Tauriel?"

"Of _that_?" She waved her arms wildly in front of her. "I think it's horrifying."

Roquen smiled, and despite herself, Tauriel couldn't help but admire his smooth jawline and perfect features so close to her own.

"That may be, but it serves its purpose, does it not? Keeps people out."

Tauriel crinkled her eyebrows. "Yes, but I should think they would prefer it if they let everyone in but didn't let them out."

Roquen's eyes settled admiringly on hers, and her stomach flipped. Were they always so warm and…pleasing?

"I like how you think, Tauriel. Unfortunately Sauron is not as _advanced_ as you are, and it remains a difficulty to enter. But look! Your charges converse."

Gollum was shaking in terror as he beseeched the hobbits. "He wants the precious! Always looking for it. And the precious wants to go back to him! But we mustn't let him have it, no, no."

Frodo and Sam were listening intently. "So what do you suggest?"

"There's another way! Another way, yes, precious. More secret. A dark way."

Tauriel glanced at Roquen. "Another way?"

The ellon nodded. "Indeed. Have you heard of Shelob's lair?"

She frowned. "You mean…the giant spider? Spawn of Ungoliant herself?"

"Yes, that one. What's the matter, Tauriel? Are you afraid?"

Tauriel shivered, but her eyes snapped up as Roquen lightly cupped her face in his hands. "You need not be afraid, Tauriel. You've fought spiders before, many more than just one."

The elleth bit her lip, not finding the strength to pull away from Roquen's mesmerizing eyes and loving touch.

"Yes, but-"

"No buts. Shelob will be a plaything for you compared to all the spiders you've slain. I trust you."

He gently stroked a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Tauriel…daughter of the forest. It will be a long and hard journey through Mordor, I'm afraid. But you will make it. You will bring the Ring to me, and I will give you your mother back."

Something gnawed at the back of Tauriel's mind, but she felt dizzy, disoriented, drowning in Roquen's attentions. She needed to think, needed to figure out what she was missing, but her vision was clouded with the handsome face of Roquen and the glimmering sight of the Ring.

Tauriel blinked, stumbling, but Roquen caught her. Just the feel of his strong hands around her waist made her gasp for breath, and all suspicion and doubt disappeared.

Roquen smiled, leaning forward with a soft kiss on her forehead. "Worry not, fair one," he whispered. "You are following the plan quite well."

* * *

In the morning, they started off again for Edoras. Gimli groused that his rear end was throbbing so much he would fall over, as Legolas complained that the dwarf was squeezing his middle so tightly that he would suffocate. Aragorn and Gilrael exchanged amused glances will Gandalf urged them on.

"Faster! Time is, I fear, not on our side."

Eventually, they rode over one last hill before the gated city of Edoras.

The wizard pursed his lips. "Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here."

As the galloped through the town, Gilrael murmured, " _I_ expect them to kill me on sight."

Gimli harrumphed. "That doesn't help the atmosphere around here, Gilrael. You'd find more cheer in a graveyard."

Gilrael had never been to a graveyard before, as it was not the custom of the immortal elves to have them. She had, however, lived in Mordor for about a thousand years, and the presence of Edoras seemed close to the gloomy atmosphere of the land of Shadow.

They gave their horses to the stable masters, and climbed the steps to the hall. Guards came forward to meet them, with the head guard being, as Gandalf surreptitiously whispered, Hama.

The head guard looked gruff. "I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Grayhame, by order of, ah, Grima Wormtongue."

Gandalf nodded to the others and they started disarming themselves. By the time Gilrael was finished, the guard was almost staggering under the weight of her weapons, since, unlike Legolas, she carried many.

All Four Hunters gave strict instructions to their guards to keep their weapons safe and undisturbed.

Hama surveyed them, and narrowed his eyes. "Your staff."

Gandalf frowned, "Oh, no. You would not part an old man from his walking stick?"

Háma grimaced, then gave a slight nod. He turned to lead them into the hall. Gandalf winked at Aragorn, who grinned. Legolas "supported" Gandalf with his arm as they walked in.

Gilrael noticed that guards lined the sides of the hall. In the middle, a fire burned. At the far end was a throne, where a sickly looking king was slouching. A small, black robed person was whispering in the king's ear. Ah, Grima Wormtongue, Saruman's servant.

Gandalf loudly noticed, "The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late Théoden King."

Théoden haltingly questioned, "And why… should I welcome you… Gandalf… Stormcrow?"

He looked at Grima for approval, who nodded. "A just question my liege."

Grima stood and addressed Gandalf. "Late is the hour in which this conjuror chooses to appear, bringing with him the enemy of our people."

Gilrael narrowed her eyes. "You do not know to whom you speak."

The man sniffed. "I know full well, my _lady_. Saruman sends his greetings. But as for _this_ spell-caster, he is quite an ill guest."

"Be silent," Gandalf ordered with disgust. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crude words with a witless worm." He held up his white staff.

Grima widened his eyes. "His staff. I _told_ you to take the wizard's staff!"

He backed away as soldiers came rushing forward. Even disarmed, they were no match compared to a Dunedain, Dwarf-lord, and two Elven warriors.

Gandalf continued forward as if nothing was going on. "Théoden son of Thengel. Too long have you sat in the shadows."

Gimli put his foot on Grima's chest, stopping him from getting up. "I would stay still if I were you."

Gandalf loudly ordered, "Harken to me." Théoden grimaced and let out a slight growl. Gandalf raised his hand. "I release you from this spell."

Théoden let out a long evil laugh that Gilrael only knew too well. Saruman's laugh. "Hahahahaahaha. Hahahahahahah. You have no power here Gandalf the Grey.

Théoden was still laughing, when suddenly Gandalf threw off his gray cloak, revealing his shining white robe. Théoden screamed.

Gandalf calmly announced, "I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound."

Théoden slammed back against the throne, as Gandalf got closer, pointing his staff at the king.

Just then, a young, beautiful golden haired girl rushed into the room, and tried to run to Theoden, but Aragorn grabbed her and stopped her. "Wait."

Théoden growled, "If I go, Théoden dies."

Gandalf again threw him back against the throne with his staff. "You could not kill me. You will not kill him."

Théoden snapped, "Rohan is mine."

Gandalf threw him against the throne yet again. "Be gone!"

Théoden screamed and lunged at Gandalf, but he hit Théoden with the staff. Théoden moaned and slid down in the chair. Aragorn let the girl go to run over and catch Théoden. She put him back up in the throne. His face changed from a wrinkling, white face back into the younger, golden haired Théoden. The girl smiled at him.

The king whispered, "I know your face. Éowyn. Éowyn. Gandalf?"

The wizard smiled. "Breathe the free air again, my friend."

Théoden shook his head. "Dark have been my dreams of late." He looked at his hands, confused.

Gandalf suggested, "Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword."

Háma came up with Théoden's sword. Slowly, Théoden drew it. Grima attempted to slide away, but Gimli grabbed him. Théoden looked at his sword, then to Grima who was shaking on the floor.

Guards threw Grima out of the hall and down the stairs. After the Four Hunters grabbed their weapons from awaiting guards, they followed Theoden outside.

Grima grovelled, "I've only ever served you, my lord."

Théoden ignored him, and shouted with hate, "Your witchcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!"

"Send me not from your sight!" cowered the man.

Théoden raised his sword to strike, but Gilrael sprang in front of him, blocking the king's sword with her own.

"No, my lord! Do not add another life to the many that has been lost. Enough blood has already been spilt on his account."

Grima stood and hissed to her, "Traitor! I will tell Saruman of your impudence." He ran through the crowd, yelling, "Get out of my way!" Taking a horse, he galloped away from Edoras, towards Isengard.

Theoden looked at Gilrael, frowning. "I recognize you. All of Rohan knows you. And why do you now come here to aid us? After all those years, plundering and destroying our villages, you return to supposedly help us? Why should I trust you?"

Legolas started forward with his hand on his bow, but Aragorn stopped him. "Let her gain her own respect."

The prince looked unhappy about that, but stayed where he was.

Gilrael looked straight at the king with great sorrow in her eyes. "My lord, it is true you have no reason to trust me. But I admit what I have done wrong. I regret with the utmost passion what I did to try to destroy the land of Rohan, and all other good nations. I have had many restless nights fretting over the nations that I harmed, wondering what I could do to help them, and if they ever could forgive me for my great wrongdoing. But I cannot fix what has been done in the past.

"I can, however, help the future. I have already withdrawn myself away from Sauron and Saruman, refusing all their offers to join them once again. It may help you to know that I will never join them, even if it costs me my life. As for now, I will do anything in my ability to help Rohan in their dire time of need. Would my lord Theoden King ever forgive me for the horrible crime that I have done to your people, the noble Rohirrim?"

Theoden was thrown off guard. He certainly hadn't expected this speech from such a gracious Elf! And he could hardly believe that she _was_ an Elf. His ancestors had handed down stories about how she looked, dressed in shining black and red armour, with black hair and cruel eyes, and looking more like an orc and human mutant than an Elf. But this maiden had a pleasing face, long brown hair, and deep, caring brown eyes.

The king's heart softened. "I do forgive you, Gilrael. After all, what you did happened thousands of years ago, and the damage has been fixed. And I saw how you protected Grima, even though it was plain you hate him as well. It proves that you care for every form of life, whether good or evil."

Aragorn cheered, "Hail Théoden King!"

The Rohirrim and the warriors bowed to Théoden, all cheering happily, but the joy and relief (on Gilrael's part) was not to last. The king whirled around looked at the people from the hall.

"Where is Théodred? Where is my son?"

* * *

After the funeral, Gilrael found Éowyn, who was the niece of the king and whose brother was Eomer.

The lady of Rohan was wandering through the fields, absently picking grass as tears fell down her face.

Gilrael quietly approached her, who looked up quickly and immediately wiped her face.

She bowed. "My Lady Gilrael, it is an honour to have you in Rohan."

"A greater honour there never was, Lady Eowyn. I am deeply sorry for the loss of your cousin."

Eowyn bit her lip. "Théodred was a close friend of mine. He understood me, understood that I was more than a mere woman. But now he is no more."

Gilrael gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "But his memory lives on. I am certain you will honour it will all you can."

The woman glanced at her with a faint smile on her lips. "You are a kind soul, Lady Gilrael. Thank you."

"Please, just Gilrael," the elleth quickly corrected. "I do not deserve such a title."

Eowyn peered at her curiously. "So strange. I have heard terrible stories about you, true, but I see no signs of any malice in you."

Gilrael bit her lip. "If you were to see me in my weakest moment you wouldn't be so quick to compliment."

"Oh, come now, I can tell that you would be the one to rush headfirst into any sort of difficulty while the others fled. I know a noble face when I see one."

Gilrael did not smile, that being rare in those days, but she had a bright light in her eyes. "You do not know how much that comforts me, Eowyn."

Éowyn looked surprised. "Comfort _you_? A mighty elven warrior, into and out of the darkest lands of Mordor?"

"Indeed. I am not so mighty as some might think."

Eowyn gazed at her closer, something beginning to dawn on her. She had always held a secret fascination for Elves, never having seen one before that very day, but she had certainly not expected them to be like Gilrael: hardened on the outside, but kind and vulnerable on the inside.

She had expected her to be more like Legolas, the stereotypical Elf who was quiet, minded his own business, and was strikingly handsome in an unnerving way, not to mention with a terrible habit of appearing out of nowhere.

But that, of course, should have been expected. Everyone was different, even Elves, and Eowyn knew that Gilrael had suffered through more than any mortal being had.

Gilrael suddenly waved a hand. "But I should not burden you with my problems. You have much on your mind."

Eowyn sighed. "Tell me about it. Eomer, before he left, he spoke of war on the horizon."

The elleth raised an eyebrow. "Then why do I sense excitement from you?"

Eowyn was about to respond when Gilrael suddenly held up a hand. "A horse approaches."

She started running up a hill with the woman following, cursing her long gown and golden hair streaming in the wind.

Gilrael paused, listening intently.

"What is it?" Eowyn gasped for breath.

The elleth pursed her lips. "The horse is exhausted from a long journey, and carries an unstable rider. Hurry!"

Gilrael broke into a sprint, and soon was quite ahead of Éowyn, for as strong as the maiden was, she could not keep up with the speed of the Elf.

Soon, Gilrael caught sight of a stumbling brown horse with two children on it. She quickly reached the side of the horse, and while stroking its sweating mane, whispered soothingly to it. "Thala, thala. Shh. Steady."

The horse was panting heavily, but stopped at her command. Éowyn ran up to them, widening her eyes. "Oh, they are children!"

The Elf nodded. "Help them down. We must bring them back to Edoras. And this poor thing needs rest." She kissed the horse's muzzle lovingly.

Éowyn lifted the boy and girl down. The two clung to each other, very frightened at the Elf, but more compliant with the woman, who knelt with a smile. "Do not worry, young ones. We will give you food and shelter. You will be safe."

Gilrael stroked the muzzle of the horse. "Aphad nin." _Follow me._

The horse obediently followed the Elf towards Edoras. Éowyn lifted the children in her arms, and followed her.

When they got back to Edoras, Gilrael left the horse to the stable masters, then slipped inside the hall.

The children were sitting on benches, sipping soup steadily. Theoden sat on his throne, thinking hard, as Gandalf was apparently trying to persuade him of something. Aragorn sat on the bench, smoking his pipe while Gimli messily ate a plate of bread. Legolas leaned against a column with his arms crossed, but Gilrael stayed in the shadows, watching in silence as, apparently, no one noticed her.

Éowyn told the king, "Freyda told me they had no warning, that they were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through the west fold, burning as they go. Rick, cot, and tree, to be precise."

The girl, apparently Freyda, asked, "Where is mamma?"

Éowyn laid a blanket over the girl's shoulders. "Shh."

"This is but a taste of the terror Saruman will unleash!" Gandalf cried. "All the more potent, for he is driven mad by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You _must_ fight."

Théoden rose from his throne. "I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

Aragorn pointed out, "Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not."

Théoden glanced at Aragorn, annoyed. "When I last looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan."

"Then what is the King's decision?" pressed Gandalf.

Gilrael groaned inwardly. Helm's Deep, by Eru. The ravine deep in the mountains had but one entrance, and one exit. She knew that Saruman would send an army after them, and a great battle would ensue, resulting in the loss of many lives.

Legolas slipped beside her. Apparently, her entrance wasn't _quite_ unnoticed as she had thought.

"You look frustrated."

Gilrael shook her head. "Can I help myself? They flee when they should stand and fight! I fear Rohan is doomed with a great massacre."

"The king is only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Legolas defended. "I, personally, understand that a king often has many difficult choices to make, none of them perfect or desirable. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past, and so Theoden chooses what he thinks is safest."

Gilrael stood. "What he _thinks_ is safest will not save his people!"

"In any case, the decision has been made. We will have to trust in the defences."

Gilrael sighed as they walked into the sunlight, watching the people scurrying about with bags and horses, packing up for the long march.

"But this time, I fear trust will not be enough."

 **A/N: Yes, yes, I apologise for the few script paragraphs, but whether it is because of my laziness or lack of skill, that could not be helped. As for Tauriel's situation, well, she's in deep, I'd say! Nuileth will be appearing again in the next chapter as well. I haven't forgotten about her! ;)**

 **As always, thank you so much for reading! And any sort of review you take the time to write out will make my day. :)**


	17. Chapter 17: The Deadly March

Nuileth didn't know whether to leap for excitement or moan in distress. But since Lorien elves were not in the habit of leaping or moaning of any sort, she resigned to packing for the long journey with muted astonishment.

She had just finished pinning her cloak on when Haldir pulled himself up onto her flet, dressed in gleaming silver armour and a red cloak.

"Are you ready?" he asked in that suave way of his.

Nuileth slung her knapsack over her shoulder. It was packed with the few essentials she needed: a spare change of clothes, a blanket, book, and extra arrows.

"Of course. It took me five minutes."

Haldir grunted. "I wish the same could be said for everyone else. But come, it is time to leave. The Lord and Lady have assigned me to lead the troops, and if you are willing, I would appreciate it if you could be my personal…assistant."

Nuileth shrugged as they climbed down the Mallorn tree. "Of course I will, if you ask, but the farthest I have travelled is Imladris. I am the most inexperienced Elf in Lorien."

They headed swiftly through the forest. "You may be inexperienced in travel and things of other lands," Haldir said, "but you are likely the most experienced when it comes to the bow. Your skill is admirable, Nuileth, and will be much needed."

The elleth peered at him out of the corner of her eye, but he seemed as stern and unchanging as always. Yet she could have sworn…no, Haldir would never deign to be so _improper_.

Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had managed to muster a small force of Elves to march to Helm's Deep in the aid of the people of Rohan. No doubt it would be considered a large one to the Men, but for Nuileth it was only a reminder of how many thousands of lives had been lost in the Battle of the Last Alliance. The Sindarin force had been very much diminished ever since.

Still, what few Elves there were, consisting of a myriad of expert archers and spearmen, would be of great help to Rohan. And with Haldir as their general, an Elf much experienced with age, they would surely emerge victorious.

* * *

There was some sort of ruckus going on the stables, but as Gilrael was heading to see if she could help, she met Legolas striding out.

At her questioning glance, he shrugged. "Some horse is acting up and Aragorn is calming it. In my opinion, he's as infatuated with the horse – Brego, I think was the name – as Eowyn is with him. You've noticed, haven't you?"

Gilrael nodded slightly. It took no more than a casual observer to see that Eowyn's glances and smiles meant more than just friendliness. However, both Elves knew where Aragorn's heart truly lay, yet neither was eager to break the news to the desiring woman.

After a slight moment of awkwardness, Legolas held out his arm. "Join me for a walk?"

Gilrael smiled, though it was only a brief one, and slipped her arm through his. "Lead the way."

They walked arm in arm through the grassy plains, the air silent except for the distant sounds of the people preparing to leave the next morning. Legolas was the one to break the silence with a thought that had been disturbing him for days.

"I saw Tauriel," he began quietly.

Gilrael glanced at him in surprise. "Really? Where? When?"

"At Amon Hen, when the Fellowship was broken. But, Gilrael, something was changed about her."

The elleth got a very bad feeling about that.

"How was she changed? What was different?"

Legolas took a deep breath. "Well, for one thing, her eyes were a murky brown instead of her usual sparkling emerald. And she-she spoke of taking the Ring, and giving it to…Roquen."

Gilrael sucked in a quick breath.

The ellon glanced down at her. "How did it happen? We _warned_ her not to listen to him!"

"Roquen is a cunning liar. He likely promised her something she much desired, but was entirely ignorant as to the truth of his promises. Besides the fact that, as shown by her eyes, he has cast a spell of corruption on her. And, if he hasn't changed, he probably added seduction to his trickery."

Legolas gasped. "Seduction? Why, if he is successful at that, nothing will convince her otherwise!"

Gilrael nodded grimly. "That is why I fear for her. I have been, ever since she left the palace. I knew that she might not be strong enough to resist Roquen's charms and wiles, should they meet. And now that Roquen has sent her after the Ring, I-I don't know what will happen. She could overpower Frodo and Sam easily. And if she took the Ring to Roquen, who would take it to Sauron, who would-"

Legolas instantly laid a finger on her lips as he saw her start to shake. "That is the worst possible thing you can think of. I forbid you from thinking it."

"But Legolas, if it is true-"

"It is not. It cannot be. I would feel it in my heart if it were true, and so would you."

Tears started to form, and Gilrael felt a gnawing pain in her stomach. "Oh, Legolas, is there no way to hope? Hope that somehow Tauriel will-will be _normal_ again? I feel for her so much, and I can't help but think that it is my-"

"Not your fault," Legolas firmly declared, pulling her suddenly into his chest to prevent her from speaking. "You have tried to dissuade Roquen before, and it was his choice to ignore that. We can hope that Tauriel will fight him. She is not as weak as you think. I have never seen a more fiery, independent spirit. She will overcome him."

Still, for all his soothing persuasion, Gilrael broke down in sobs, and clutched the ellon as if she could never let go.

"I don't want…to lose you…again," she whispered through her tears.

Legolas stroked her hair, gently, and didn't say a word. He knew she simply wanted the reassurance that he was there, that he wasn't going to leave her. But sometimes, _he_ wanted more than that. And as time drew on, that feeling grew stronger and stronger. Eru, if their quest wasn't fulfilled any time soon…Legolas grasped Gilrael's lithe body tighter to him. He would find a way. He always did.

* * *

In the morning, they started off on the long march to Helm's Deep, the villages looking back remorsefully at their home that they may not see again, despite the efforts of the soldiers to cheer them up.

The remaining members of the Fellowship rode in the front, beside Theoden, his generals, and Eowyn, who was mostly occupied with trying not to look like she was staring at Aragorn, and failing.

Though she had ceased to cry, Legolas noticed Gilrael looking more depressed and withdrawn than usual. She was seated stiffly on Belegroch, staring ahead but not quite seeing anything.

"What's the matter laddie?" Gimli growled from his place behind the ellon. "You just tensed up."

Legolas pursed his lips. "It's Gilrael. Have you noticed her?"

"That she's gloomier than a storm cloud? Of course I have. That it's spreading to you? Most definitely."

The Elf made a face which, being in front of Gimli, the dwarf couldn't see. "I can't help it. I'm worried about her. For a few days, she seemed better than she has in centuries, but then…"

"Then _what_?" Gimli hated it when Elves would pause at a particularly interesting point in their speech only to simply drift off in thought.

Legolas shook his head. "Then something happened, and I don't know what to make of it."

The ellon suddenly slipped off the horse and handed the reins to Gimli, much to the dwarf's dismay.

"You can't give me these!" he cried. "Dwarves are _not_ riders! And where do you think you're going?"

"Scout!" Legolas called back. Then he disappeared amongst the various carts, wagons, and horses.

Gimli grumbled, shuffling forward on the horse to grip the reins with all he possessed. _Why_ in Arda did the durned Elf _have_ to ride with no saddle?

"At least you have the reins," Aragorn pointed out, riding effortlessly next to the dwarf.

Gimli huffed, but then yelped as he felt himself start to slide, and as the horse started to grow unsteady.

"Aragorn!" the dwarf cried helplessly as the horse neighed and galloped away, sending Gimli flying off the horse and onto the ground.

Eowyn ran laughing to help him up as Theoden sighed wistfully, glancing at Aragorn.

"It has been a long while since I have seen her smile," the king reminisced. "Ever since her father was brought back, cut by orcs, and her mother followed shortly after. These are dark days, Aragorn, when smiles are so rare."

The Ranger nodded gravely, sparing a look at the stone-faced Gilrael who had not moved a muscle for hours.

Theoden followed his glance, and his frown deepened. "She looks like she has seen better days."

Aragorn grunted. "I reckon these _are_ her better days. What she has gone through is far more than any mortal could even imagine."

"How did it happen?"

Aragorn was about to respond when, to the men's astonishment, Gilrael broke her lengthy silence with an icy look.

"It happened when the enemy outsmarted us. They are cunning, Theoden King, and they attack without notice. Be on your guard."

And what that, she urged her horse forward. "I will find Arod."

The king and Ranger watched as she galloped away beyond a hill, in the hopes of locating Legolas' and Gimli's runaway horse. The dwarf was merrily chattering away with Eowyn, while the former was still yet to return.

Only when night fell did a weary looking Legolas return with Arod following. Aragorn noticed the smug look in the horse's face, and deduced that it had given its elven master quite a long chase.

But he had no time to consider where Gilrael was before Éowyn slowly approached the rock on which he was cleaning his sword.

She smiled slightly, absentmindedly stirring the contents in a pot. "I made some stew. It isn't much, but it's hot."

The woman scooped out some of her stew into a bowl and handed it to Aragorn, who took it from her. "Thank you."

He looked into the bowl and inwardly grimaced. The white, squishy substance was akin to the raw seafood stuff that he had tried in the ports of Gondor. It was disgusting.

But Aragorn, being a gentleman, decided to humour Eowyn, and slowly scooped up a bite. As he sipped the bite, he felt an inexplicable urge to vomit and slice off a layer of his tongue to get rid of the taste, and a more pressing, unavoidable urge to scrunch up his face and wince.

Eowyn waited anxiously for his decision, and the Ranger managed, "It's…interesting."

About as interesting as a boiled marsh toad, that is.

Her face lit up. "Really?"

Aragorn nodded quickly.

She turned and walked away, while he tried to dump the rest of his stew to the side.

Éowyn paused. "My uncle told me a strange thing."

Aragorn tried to stable the bowl right before Éowyn turned around, but she was right about one thing. It was hot. He winced again, then smiled innocently.

"My uncle said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather," Eowyn began. "But he must be mistaken."

Aragorn nodded. "King Théoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time."

Éowyn looked incredulous. "Then you must be at least sixty. No? Seventy? Eighty?!"

"Eighty-seven," the man responded with a smile, stirring the stew around to make it look like it was being consumed.

"You are one of the Dúnedain," an awed Eowyn realized. "A descendant of Númenor, blessed with long life. It was said that your race had passed into legend."

"There are few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago."

Éowyn hummed something in reply, then quickly bowed her head. "I'm sorry for keeping you from eating. Please, eat."

He reluctantly picked up his spoon and forced a smile. "Of course."

Only when she left did he dump the stomach-churning bowl of grossness for good.

* * *

Later that night, Aragorn was still trying to get rid of the nasty taste with the help of his pipe, while simultaneously sunk in thought. He wasn't the best at judging women, Elves being more his area of comfort since he was raised among them, but it seemed to him that Eowyn's friendliness seemed more like… _flirtiness_ , if that word even existed. He sucked in a breath of smoke. Of course, Eowyn was a beautiful, brave noblewoman, but she lacked…charm. _Arwen_ had charm, and had, besides, given up her immortality for him. How could he dismiss her so readily?

The Ranger fingered the sparkling pendant lying on his chest. The soothing voice of his beloved sounded in his head, entrancing him as it always did.

 _I choose a mortal life._

 _I rather face one life with you than a thousand all alone._

 _I choose a mortal life._

Aragorn clenched his fist around the Evenstar, his heart constricting in indecision. He loved her, first and foremost, but who was he to take such an Elf? He wasn't worthy, he didn't deserve her sacrifice. And yet…Arwen was his life. Aragorn was constantly thinking about her, if she was well, what she was doing, if she –

"Something near to your heart concerns you, mellon nin," the silky voice of Legolas whispered as he suddenly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to the man.

Aragorn glanced at him in annoyance. "Yes, actually, it's when you appear out of nowhere and then pummel me with that look. Yes, _that_ one."

"Well it's hardly my fault that I happen to care about you," Legolas defended. "So whatever is the matter?"

The Ranger sighed wearily. "It's Arwen. I-I…" He broke off helplessly, looking to his friend.

Legolas nodded knowingly. "I understand."

"And you will not help?"

"They say go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both yes and no. So I will spare you that by saying nothing."

Aragorn glared at him, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Now I know where all the discrimination against them comes from. They're utterly useless."

"I wouldn't be so useless if you were to stop smoking," Legolas retorted cheerfully.

The Ranger scowled, but put the pipe away, albeit rather roughly. " _Now_ will you give me advice?"

"Certainly. The matter of your unworthiness is easily dismissed. You are one of the most qualified of Men, and you ought to see yourself as such. Not many can resist the power of the Ring as you do. And on Arwen's part, she loves you, Estel. That should be enough for you. Trust that Lord Elrond did not let it go easily. She thought long and hard on the topic, and she made her decision. Nothing you do will change it, so, you might as well embrace it. Become the King of Gondor and Arnor, and you will have your beloved for your wife."

Aragorn smiled, clapping the Elf on the shoulder. "Wise words, mellon. I will think them over. And what can I do for you in return?"

Legolas sighed dramatically. "I cannot find Gilrael anywhere for the _life_ of me. Care to help?"

* * *

An hour later, the two had scoured every inch of the refugee camp to come up with absolutely no trace of the missing elleth. They stood at the edge of the camp in hopelessness, gazing around at the dark plains in front of them and the quiet tents behind him.

"My heart tells me Gilrael is safe," Legolas said in a low voice, "but I will be more at peace if I knew _where_ , exactly, she was."

Aragorn hummed in agreement, but just then, a young girl shyly approached them, bobbing a curtsy.

The Ranger knelt down with a warm smile. "What are you doing up so late, little lass?"

"I-I heard you talking, my lord," the girl said. "You are looking for someone?"

"Indeed, an Elf maiden. Have you seen her?"

"I think so. I couldn't see her face, but she passed by my tent with no noise. Her shadow was cast by the firelight, so I peeked out and caught a glimpse of her disappearing over that hill over there. Oh!"

The girl let out a little cry of surprise as she suddenly realized Legolas was standing there, surveying the countryside with his piercing blue eyes. She hastily bowed her head. "I didn't see you, my lord. You were so quiet. I'm so sorry."

Aragorn smiled, ruffling her curls before he stood. "It's quite fine, right Legolas?"

There was no response, and the man had to discreetly kick his friend in the shin. "Right?" he hissed.

But the Elf was staring with such intensity that even Aragorn felt uneasy. He patted the girl's head.

"Run along to bed now, there's a good girl. You have a long day of marching ahead of you."

The girl smiled radiantly, and darted away. Legolas did the same, minus the smile, and it was all Aragorn could do to catch up to the sprinting Elf, lips pursed in worry.

* * *

Aragorn nearly tripped as Legolas suddenly slammed to a stop on the crest of a hill, a fifteen-minute full-on Elven sprint away from the camp. Needless to say, the man was quite spent, and was doubled over panting for breath while Legolas sighed in relief.

Gilrael was standing in front of them, hood drawn, and she didn't turn as they approached.

"Do you feel it, Legolas?"

The Sinda stepped up to her side, both of them ignoring their human companion who was, for the moment, rendered quite useless.

"A dark presence sweeps over the land, coming closer with every breath we draw," he whispered. "A powerful malice, an outstretched claw of blackness, waiting to wipe out every fair being. Is there nothing we can do?"

Gilrael narrowed her eyes. "Not much, I'm afraid. Until we have proof, Theoden will not listen to the whim of two Elves. And yet…" She took a shaky breath. "I do not want any more lives to be lost."

The elleth turned around, striding firmly past Aragorn with Legolas on her trail. "We march with greatest speed for Helm's Deep. The sooner we get there, the sooner Rohan will be able to defend its own. Did you hear that, Aragorn?"

The Ranger dragged himself upwards and gasped something in reply along the lines of 'heading back at a walking pace.'

A walking-pace amount of time later, the trio re-entered the camp, where Aragorn promptly threw himself into what sleep he could catch before they had to start off again.

The Elves stood watch side-by-side, Gilrael murmuring, "Many lives will be lost before all this is over."

"But one will be gained."

She glanced at Legolas, who smiled as he gently kissed her hand. "And that is all that matters to me."

* * *

Early the next morning, the refugees continued their march to Helm's Deep. Judging from their current speed, they would arrive in the afternoon, but Gilrael was uneasy. It was too late. They needed more time.

"Can we go faster?" she asked the king. It was the first time she had spoken to him since Edoras, and Theoden knew to take her few words seriously.

"We are going as fast as we can, my lady. The women and children cannot move any faster."

Gilrael held her gaze. "They _must_."

Something about her tone made Theoden glance at her, and her expression sent a chill down his spine.

"What is the matter?"

"Danger approaches. Quickly."

She flinched as the distinct sound of a growling Warg pierced the air, and from the very front they saw Legolas slice its neck and stab its rider's head. Hama, the king's guard, lay dead some distance away.

"A scout!" the Elf yelled as he dashed to the crest of a hill, readying his bow.

Aragorn readied his horse, shouting, "We're under attack! Get them out of here!"

Screams rung through the air as people were trampled underfoot and mayhem ruled.

"This cannot continue!" Theoden cried, gazing at his people in distress. His eyes landed on Eowyn, and he yelled for her.

"You must lead the people to Helm's Deep, and make haste!"

She jumped onto her horse. "I can fight!"

"No! You must do this, they need your guidance!"

Eowyn bit her lip, but nodded, turning to shout directions.

"All riders to the head of the column!" Theoden ordered. "Follow me!"

Gilrael and Aragorn flanked the king while Gimli clumsily managed to control Arod. They reached the crest of the hill where Legolas had already shot several Wargs, but as they drew closer, he had no choice but to take hold of Arod's harness and flip onto the horse, much to Gimli's relief.

Theoden raised his sword, shouting, "CHARGE!"

The Rohirrim dashed forward, spears extended, and the walls of horsemen and warg-orcs collided with bristling power.

Time flashed as everything was a blur of blood, blades, and screams. Gilrael worked on autopilot, ditching her bow long ago for her two swords. The fighting did not bother her, but the implications were ghastly. A larger army was on the horizon, one that would arrive at Helm's Deep in several hours' time. An army with only one purpose: to destroy the world of Men.

Suddenly, she was ripped out of the smooth flow of her arch of death as Belegroch stumbled and fell to the ground. The horse's knees had been cut by a clever orc who was promptly killed by the elleth, but she had no time to mourn the death of the fine horse.

She was standing on the edge of a cliff, and rapidly pummelling towards it was a wild, rider-less warg, dragging Aragorn with it while the man desperately tried to untangle himself from the various ropes and reins.

Gilrael's heart thudded. She barely had time to think, but her decision was made in a split second.

Not a moment later were her swords firmly sheathed, and as the Warg barrelled towards her, Gilrael grabbed onto the rope and pulled with all her might. Instead of stopping it, she was flung into the air along with it, and, screaming, they toppled off the cliff.

Gilrael had about five seconds to act, and she used every one. She whipped out a knife, slashing the rope connecting Aragorn's leg to the Warg. While sheathing the knife, Gilrael grabbed hold of Aragorn and twisted their bodies so that they landed in the best possible way in the icy cold water.

Barely able to see anything through the bubbling foam, Gilrael choked and gasped for breath as she managed to keep her head above the water and to hold onto Aragorn tightly to make sure he didn't drown. But as they floated further and further away from the others, Gilrael looked down worriedly at the man.

He had passed out, apparently by hitting his head on unseen rocks in the water. Aragorn's condition was by no means healthy, blood clots dotting his face and his clothes ripped to shreds. His weapons were probably weighing him down as well, like they were for Gilrael, and she knew that she herself would probably pass out soon through her own blood loss, force of impact on the water, and the exertion of keeping a grown man aloft.

Gilrael grit her teeth through the pain of her wounds, and forced her shredded hands to grasp onto Aragorn. She blinked hard, not allowing her vision to grow blurry, and trying to breath above the water. It would go down soon, she hoped, and then she might be able to muster strength to drag Aragorn and herself to the shore.

Perhaps, after some rest, Aragorn would regain consciousness and Gilrael herself would be in some condition to ride the rest of the way to Helm's Deep.

* * *

Legolas felt like choking as he gripped the glimmering Evenstar in his hands. He and Gimli stood side-by-side, staring down into the fatal ravine with unbelieving eyes. No sign of their dear friends remained, only the rushing water.

The ellon was just about to descend the cliff to look for evidence when Theoden approached sorrowfully, avoiding the Elf's anguished gaze. "Come."

There was nothing Legolas would not rather do, but as he gave one more glance down, his eyes could not betray him. T-they were gone! _Gone_. Dead – no, no, no, no!

Legolas suddenly whirled back around, guiding Arod firmly away from the ravine. He held back his tears as he always did, masking his face in an expression of hard coldness. But inside, his heart was breaking, tearing to shreds for the friend and love he had lost.

 _It cannot be!_ he told himself over and over as they slowly headed for Helm's Deep. _I would feel it if they were dead._

But he doubted himself. Perhaps he _wouldn't_ feel it. Perhaps they were dead after all. He knew Gilrael wasn't a strong swimmer. She hated the water. And Aragorn had been wounded, and probably drowned. But Legolas couldn't know for sure, and that added to the agony.

How he yearned for solid _knowledge_! Mourning without seeing their dead bodies himself was next to unbearable.

Gimli hesitantly laid a hand on the ellon's shoulder. The dwarf knew Legolas didn't like much physical contact, but in this instance, he hoped his presence would be appreciated.

To his relief, Legolas swallowed hard and glanced back. "Yes?"

"I'm here for you, laddie," the dwarf told him. "Just don't you forget that."

Legolas managed to force a look that was less like he was about to pass out, and truthfully, he was touched by the dwarf's care. "Thank you, Gimli. Thank you…mellon nin."

Gimli felt something warm swell up inside of him. He knew that Elves used the word _mellon_ , or friend, sparingly, only for the closest of the close, and the fact that Legolas had used it for him, for the first time…well, it was heartening. Very heartening, even through those ever-darkening times.


End file.
